Sleeping Eyes
by Dagron
Summary: Lucina's had strange dreams for as long as she can remember. You've known this a long time. You have strange dreams too... But where she dreams of a future that was averted, you dream of a time in which she is your mother.
1. Please don't say it's just a nightmare

Lucina's had strange dreams for as long as she can remember. You've known this a long time. You have strange dreams too...  
But where she dreams of a future that was averted, you dream of a time in which she is your mother.

* * *

Chapter 1: "_Please don't say it's just a nightmare._"

* * *

She sits and shivers in the armchair, her midnight hair coloured purple by the pre-dawn light. The light filters in through the curtains as you pull the window open; the air in the office feels stuffy, cloying, even though you know it is merely your imagination. Figments from your own terror-filled dream linger in your mind. You grab the blanket your father keeps on a shelf and drape it around her shoulders. Her eyes are fixed on the mug of tea in her hands.

For a minute, you forget that she's a child. You remember... You remember her as the woman from your dreams. You remember how desperate you were to help her smile.

It's bittersweet as you step back. She may have grown in the seven years since your mother left, but she is still a child. Only thirteen, the crown princess of Ylisse is far too young to be waking up in a cold sweat, screaming until her lungs give out.

"Lucina," you say. She doesn't hear you at first. Your heart aches. "Lucina..."

She startles. Her eyes are still wide with fear, you can tell by the way her brand glimmers.

"It's alright..." You say, your mouth automatically smiling. It's a reflex you learned as a child. One that reminded your mother of your uncle. You wonder what has become of him now. "If you don't want to talk about it, I'd understand, but..."

You kneel on the rug in front of her chair, fold your hands in your lap.  
"I'd like to know... What's got you so afraid?"

Her grip tightens on the mug, drops of warm liquid spilling out. She's squaring her shoulders just like her father does before a difficult meeting. Your brow creases and smile drops. The silence builds, moment by moment. An owl hoots as the wind ruffles the curtains.

"I..." Her voice is barely audible as she rests the mug against her forehead. She sounds close to tears. "I don't... Please..." She looks away, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "Please don't say it's just a nightmare."

It's not like you didn't expect her to mention a bad dream, but you sense that it goes deeper than that for her. You know, better than most, what she probably means.

For most people, a nightmare is a one-off after all. You stay quiet, your thoughts going back to your own dreams. Mother had seemed particularly melancholy tonight.

"I..." Hands shaking, Lucina puts the tea down on the floor. She's squaring her shoulders again. Her eyes are fixed on a point just above your head. Her tone becomes dead, factual, and you nearly flinch. It's so familiar yet wrong. "I dreamt that the castle was under attack. An army of Risen, undead warriors," she amends, "they came for me. I..." Her posture falters, her arms wrap themselves tightly around her torso. "So many people were dying, I... I couldn't save them. And then..." The princess swallows. "The... The Dragon came..."

You keep quiet, waiting. She'll either look you in the eye when she's finished or curl up into a ball.

"I think... It destroyed the main hall with a mere sweep of its horns. It... It was taunting me! I... It was away to kill me, and I couldn't look away. All I could do was scream and raise my father's sword at it..." Young Lucina pales and puts her face in her hands, her words become more rapid. "Good grief, I've woken up the whole castle with my screaming, haven't I? I punched uncle Frederick. What am I going to say to father when he returns from his trip? If...? I..."

A swear makes its way past your lips. Lucina's breathing is becoming laboured. She's panicking. Your father didn't bring you to her to get her panicked.

"Hey! Hey..." You move forward, quickly encircling her small frame with yours. Your arms hold her tight as she quakes and shivers. "It's okay. The Exalt and your mother will be back from their trip by lunchtime. And frankly if Freddy-bear can't take a punch by now, he's failed as a knight."

Lucina's eyes go wide at the mention of your father's nickname for Frederick. She stills, before small giggles start to make themselves known. "Yeah," you say, smiling. "I went there. Sir Frederick the wary is Freddy-bear." It's odd, discovering Lucina's surprise at the family nickname for Frederick, but it makes sense. Your father does tend to go out of his way to avoid the young princess.

Lucina's breathing normalises, and she shakes her head. You smirk at her bed hair. Severa would have had a fit. You lean back, and she rests her hands on your shoulders.

"Why can't I just have normal person dreams?" She sighs. You shrug. You know the why, but you can't say. Lucina pouts. "Inigo's dreams sound way more fun. Do you know what my brother dreams about?"

You shake your head. Your heart lifting at the Princess's now light-hearted tone.

"He dreams of a princess who turns into a dragon, a singer who can control water, or even a kingdom of floating islands reached by jumping into the depths of a ravine!" Her hands fly up into the air, mimicking the imagined scenes, before falling heavily to her lap. "I'm so tired of death and fighting monsters."

"Maybe we should get you back to bed." You say, patting Lucina's cheek as you notice her eyelids drooping. You stand, pulling her up out of her chair. "In my experience, dreams like yours only come once a night."

She stands, lets you take her hand, but her gaze is intense. She stares at you, not moving for a moment. You can see the gears turning in her head. You inwardly curse.

"How do you know that?" Trust Lucina to be perceptive.

"I..." You remember the look of utter defeat across her features, as she begged you not to dismiss it as a nightmare. The deflection dies upon your lips. You owe her the truth at least. You throat goes dry. A hint of truth will have to do. "I'm... aware that your dreams are sequential." You nod towards the door and start leading her back through the corridors. It still feels strange being taller than her. "It's been that way as long as you can remember, hasn't it?"

Lucina nods, her expression serious and attentive. You hesitate. She's not yet fourteen, she's still too young, but...

"When... When you were little, I remember your parents asking a... a friend of mine for advice about your dreams... You won't remember them." The lie tastes foul on your tongue. "But I... She..."

You stop just short of the door to Lucina's room. You're at a loss for words. You've spent the last seven years learning so much about your mother, how she was always the one giving you words of comfort... You miss her so much. It feels strange to be giving words of comfort to her younger self. You sigh.

"You'll be alright, kiddo." You say, giving her one last squeeze of the shoulder.

Lucina doesn't look fully satisfied, but she's smart enough to know when not to push the subject.  
"Thanks, miss Morgan." She nods, looks up at you with a small smile. "I really appreciated your help tonight. Sorry for waking you up."

You feel a lump forming in your throat. "No problem, I was awake anyway."

You turn to leave after seeing Lucina walk through the door to her room, only to hear her voice timidly calling your name once more.

"Hm?" You feel exhausted. Your father had asked you to report to him after making sure Lucina was okay. Your bed beckons. Lucina's eyes are wide as she stands half hidden by her doorframe.

"Would... Could you stay? Until I fall back to sleep? Please?" Her eyes are so round as she speaks. You are intimately reminded of little Morgan. It's the look she uses on father when she really wants something. At least now you know where she got it from.

"Sure," you reply, tilting your head to the side in amusement. How could you say no?

Lucina falls asleep swiftly, her hand hanging off the bed to hold yours. You sit on the floor, on a spare cushion for comfort. You adjust yourself so her hand rests on your shoulder, still within your grasp. You only promised to stay till she drifted off, but you find yourself unable to leave. It feels so right to be sat there, by her side. It fills you with a nostalgia that is pleasant but that you know will be short lived. This Lucina is not your mother, might never become her. She deserves to be her own person.

Still, as you sit in the dark room, slowly nodding off as the sun begins to rise, you can't help but feel her warm presence at your back and relive your dreams. You are nine, living in a world made desolate by the presence of the dark god Grima. The outlook is bleak, but it is all you've ever known. You laugh, you smile, you make up games to play in the hard drudge of survival. Your mother calls you her light, and you feel safe. You know that she'll always be there to protect you.

You squeeze the hand on your shoulder one last time before nodding off. You don't notice the door opening. Your father looks in and shakes his head with a smile. You wake up three hours later with a crick in your neck.


	2. A Gift

Chapter 2: A gift

* * *

Chrom and Olivia are back, and life resumes it normalcy.

Your father no longer needs to liaise with Frederick over the castle's security, and you're back to your many projects and daily distractions. You've been hard at work with the Tactician trying to engineer a spell to improve the yield of crops in Plegia. The exalt and his wife returned with some notes from Henry and Libra. These are proving particularly helpful, giving you the specifics about the drought there. Robin is zealously scouring the library for useful references. You've spent some time helping him, but you're now in the gardens getting gardening lessons from Sumia. You're knee deep in muck. Sumia points out the difference between various weeds and plants. You delight in the feel of the rich earth on your hands, the fragrance of the flowers as you free them from their invaders. You hum a song and Sumia laughs, joining in.

You're both three verses in when the sounds of laughing children reach your ears. Sumia sits back on her heels, brushing her braid back the better to observe. Her smile is warm as she spies her daughter in the rabble that has found its way onto the grass nearby.

You rub your face on your sleeve, spotting young Cynthia leading the way on light feet. Behind her you recognise Owain, Severa and Lucina. Though the props are no longer wooden swords, it is easy to recognise the challenges and dramatic poses as their version of the Justice Cabal. You're slightly taken aback. Lucina's smile is so bright, so wide. You can't remember seeing your mother ever so carefree, either before she left or in your dreams. The younger Lucina from your dreams is such a stern child, prone to telling you off if she felt you were playing up.

"I forget sometimes how lucky we are that they can be so carefree," Sumia comments, noticing your facial expression. "Cynthia keeps telling me about how she's going to be the perfect lady. She wants to be a diplomat like Maribelle when she's all grown up."

"I..." You hesitate. You feel awkward speaking about your dreams with people other than little Morgan and your father. You're not quite in the habit of thinking of them as memories yet. "I remember... playing that game." You point as Lucina and Owain form an arch for the smaller Cynthia to charge through, waving her stick around like a battle staff. A smirking Severa greets her at the other end, swinging a broom around with only mild menace. Inigo has appeared to join in on the fun. "Mother would get so upset when I'd play with magic tomes. I managed to cast a spell from one by accident when I was eight. Little Lucina got so cross."

Sumia chuckles.  
"Bless," she tries in vain to hide her smirk. "I bet Robin was so proud."

"Yeah," you reply awkwardly. Robin doesn't feature in your dreams. Only Grima, and your mother's constant tales of your father's prowess as a tactician. It's hard to reconcile with the memories you arrived in the past with. You still remember clear as day the moment he gave you your first tome. You'd just turned ten. He put a flower behind your ear.

Thankfully Sumia is called to her daughter Cynthia's side when she trips and lands heavily on her arm. That wasn't a good sound. Young Lucina is quick in sending Severa to find her aunt Lissa. Cordelia's daughter sprints quickly out of view, Owain and Inigo standing awkwardly to the side as Sumia helps Cynthia sit up.

You're about to stand and go help when you topple over in turn. A yelp escapes your lips as you feel a large weight on your shoulders.  
"Aunt Morgan!" A shrill voice cries. "Happy Birthday!"

"Blast! You got me!" You chuckle. You push yourself back up, causing the person on top of you to fall off, into the flower bed with you. Little Morgan shrieks as her back gets covered in dirt. You roar and go in to tickle her. "Happy birthday, you little monster!"

She laughs before batting your hands away. You both sit in a matching state of dishevelled clothing, dirt smeared across her nose, your cheeks.

"We got you a present!" She declares, thrusting her arms out wide. She then pulls her sleeves up to tap her nose. "But you'll have to find it first. You're a good tactician, right? You should be able to find it."

You half-groan, half-laugh. It's such a Morgan thing to do. You have a fairly good idea where she might have hidden it.  
"Well then, I'd better start looking, but first I'll need two things."

"What's that?" the girl, now ten, says, scrubbing the mud off the knees of her dress.

"I need to tell you that I've done the same thing," you laugh, seeing her exasperated expression. "And I'll even give you a clue... if you give me one first?"

"Ah, no fair!" She pouts, crossing her arms dramatically. It's clear to see that she's been spending plenty of time around Owain. "I'll give you a clue when Dad gets here. He shan't be long. Look there he comes!"

And sure enough, Robin is rounding the corner with a bundle of books in his arms. He spies you both covered in dirt and sighs. You grin. You are unrepentant. It was little Morgan's idea to shove you face first into the dirt after all.

"Oh hey," you ask. Robin is still quite far. Lissa flies past him to reach young Cynthia's side. You tilt your head in their direction. "How come you weren't playing with the Justice Cabal today?"

"Oh. I was with Kjelle and her mum in the training grounds. They were teaching me how to climb up a rope. It's super fun!" She pulls you back up to your feet. Robin finally arrives. "That's when Dad came. He reminded me I needed to tell you about your present!"

"Hi Robin," you greet your father, attempting to give him a hug which he promptly dodges.

"Morgan, no mud near the books," he laughs, putting the pile down on the nearby wall. He squeezes you around the shoulders and smiles. "Look at you, both filthy. You'll have to change your clothes before supper."

"Hey Dad, hey Dad!" Little Morgan jumps up and down, hurriedly rubbing the dirt off her hands. "Aunty Morgan wants us to give her a clue! What should we tell her?"

Robin looks at you, a smirk twisting his features. Oh. Oh dear, he was the one doing the hiding. This might be trickier than you thought.

"I know... but first. How about I give you your very first tome?" Little Morgan stills, her eyes going wide. "You want to be a tactician just like me when you grow up, right?"

"Wah!" She exclaims, her eyes never leaving your father's. "Really?"

He bends to pick up a disturbed flower from the ground, placing it delicately behind her ear, chuckling.  
"Yes, really." He pulls a small tome from the inside pocket of his coat. You recognise the cover immediately. It's a Wind tome. A reasonable choice for a burgeoning caster. "Happy tenth birthday, Morgan."

Morgan grabs the book with delight, squeezing Robin's midsection with enthusiasm.  
"I'm going to go practice right away!" She cries. Robin can only lift his hand to try and catch her. She's already several feet away, twirling on the spot waving the book above her head. "I'll become the best tactician! Just like you dad!"

Robin sighs, shaking his head. You stare after young Morgan, your brain going into overdrive. What you've just seen... it's...

"Hey, you alright, kiddo?"

No, you don't think so. That... What you just saw... It played out exactly like one of the few memories you had of your father when you first arrived in the past. The event was identical down to the last word, the last gesture. You are certain it can't be a coincidence. By Naga, did the goddess...?

"I'm fine," you reassure your father, not wanting him to worry. You take a deep breath. You can process that later, for now... You let out a small chuckle. "She's away without the hint for her present."

"What was your hint for her going to be? I can go tell her."

"Ah, ah, mine first!" You chastise him. By his smirk, you can tell that he's been caught out in his ruse. He knows you too well.

"Fine, her hint for yours is Tree," he grins. "Now what's hers?"

"Flower," you reply smugly, waving your arm towards the several flower beds you've helped Sumia clear of weeds. The one you're standing in is ruined, but it'll be a good testing ground for the spells you've both been working on.

"Thanks Morgan," Robin smiles warmly at you. "I'm sorry to have you working so hard on your birthday, you know."

"Hah! You know I wouldn't have it any other way, Da-Robin," you say. You nearly slip into calling him dad. You try not to do it when the little kids are around, it avoids awkward questions. A quick glance towards the justice cabal shows Cynthia and the others getting a lecture from Lissa, and Sumia looking very relieved that Cynthia is now able to cross her arms without wincing. You turn your attention to the books on the wall. "Did you find any good reference material?"

"I'm not sure," Robin mumbles, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. His eyes are on young Lucina. The princess is rallying the other children's morale as Lissa leaves them. She's probably suggesting some game less likely to involve injury. "There's some promising looking material in there, but Chrom asked me a favour before I could really read it in much depth."

"Oh?" You ask, intrigued. Though your father keeps his distance from little Lucina as much as he can, he still maintains a deep friendship with the Exalt. It's not unusual for them to help each other out, but normally Robin doesn't feel the need to tell you. "What did he want?"

Robin smiles. It's that bittersweet smile he has whenever he misses your mother.  
"Come here," he opens his arm, inviting you in for a hug. "I'm already resigned to changing clothes."

You roll your eyes but lean into his hug anyway. It is your birthday after all.  
"It's something to do with Lucina, isn't it?" It's a guess, but you've known your father long enough to know it won't be far off the mark. Your eyes join his in watching the princess direct her friends into formation for a race.

"It is." He says simply. "She turned fourteen two weeks ago, and Chrom would like her to practice doing state visits now that she is of an age to travel without him. She'll still need a chaperone figure though."

"Hm..." You wait for him to continue. Sumia smiles as Lucina convinces her to do the countdown.

"Thankfully," Robin chuckles, "Olivia managed to convince him not to send Frederick. He was going to ask Cordelia next but..."

"But...?" You prompt, hearing him hesitate. The race begins. Severa and Lucina are quick off their starting positions, quickly followed by Inigo. Cynthia and Owain struggle after them. You turn your gaze to Robin.

"Lucina asked him if it could be you instead... If you didn't mind?"

You're startled, to say the least. Last month Robin asked you to calm Lucina down while he reassured Frederick that no intruders had caused the princess's outburst. Until then, you had not really had cause to interact with young Lucina, and you've not really interacted since.

"Why me?" You wonder out loud, your gaze returning to the children. You watch as Cynthia stumbles last to the finish line, her hand slapping onto the wall of the courtyard. By the apparent banter between Severa and Lucina, it seems to be a tie between the two. Sumia looks like she's suggesting a tiebreaker. The other children cheer.

"I don't know," Robin says, clasping a hand on your shoulder as he steps away. "Only one way to find out. Will you do it? It involves travelling to Rosanne and Regna Ferox..."

"Of course!" You jump. Your response surprises even you with its promptness. "Sure, I'll do it."

"Great. I'll let Chrom know on my way to find Morgan." The two of you chuckle. Little Morgan has probably enlisted Kjelle's help in testing her new wind tome. You can already picture Sully's daughter putting on armour still too heavy for her as Morgan casts gust after gust at her. Robin points towards the pile of books on the wall. "Would you mind taking those to the study? Before Sumia notices what happened to her flower bed?"

You feel a trill of fear run down your spine, noticing that Sumia's gaze has indeed turned back to you.  
"Sure thing Robin! Thanks!" You say, hastily grabbing the pile with both hands. You hear your father laugh as you make a run for it, Sumia shouting your name with frustration behind your back.


	3. It was your Father's

Chapter 3: "It was your father's..."

* * *

That same night, you dream of your mother again. You're just turning ten. The camp is running out of clean water. It's... Underwhelming, to say the least.

The group you are travelling with splits into several parties, three people each. You have half an hour to search for any small springs or hidden wells and return to camp.

You pair up with your mother and grandmother. You're trying desperately to keep your spirits up, despite the heat, the thirst in your throat, the tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. It's been a long day of running, hiding, searching. It doesn't feel like your birthday. There have been no presents, no cake, no song.

Something glitters up ahead. You gasp. You run, only to drop to your knees when you reach it. It's just a discarded sword, stuck in the ground. No spring. No water. You feel tears running down your cheeks. Hiccups rack your small frame. The dirt feels gritty beneath your fists.

You don't hear your mother run up to your side. You barely notice as her hands grip your shoulders, wrap around you in a tight hug. You only startle out of your stupor when you notice... You notice that she is crying too.

"Mum... Don't cry..." You whimper, unable to stop your own tears. You're so frustrated, and scared. Your mother never cries. She must be beyond upset.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan." Your mother holds you tight, her hands feel rough against your arms, your neck. "This..." A half-sob, a frustrated gasp... "This was not what I wanted for your birthday."

You stay quiet, unable to find the right words. You grasp her arms back. You glance out at the desolate landscape around you. Plegia they called it. It's too warm, too dry... But the Risen don't seem to follow you so closely here. You would wonder why, but you're too relieved to care. Still, you had read the disquiet in your mother's tense movements, your grandmother's skittishness.

Your Grandmother steps up to you both, her voice hesitant.  
"Lu-Luci-Lucina... Is... Is that...?" You look up at her. She seems old, somehow, despite being a similar age to your mother. You frown. She looks like she's seen a ghost.

Your mother, noticing that Grandmother is pointing at the sword, seems taken aback.  
"Is that? What?" And then she looks.

Your mother laughs.

She's still crying, but she's laughing. You're not sure you've ever heard her laugh like this before. Normally it's so quiet, a smirk, a small chuckle. This laughter is loud, messy, tumbling over itself. Grandmother comes to help you up as your mother steps around you. She's reaching for the blade, shaking her head. You glance at your grandmother. She's smiling.

"I didn't think we'd find it... It's been so long." She pulls up the sword, its blade zigzags like the purple lightning that keeps you awake at night. She scratches at the earth. Some of it moves, barely. She digs. Puzzled you go to help. Callused hands pull scorched earth away to reveal the shape of a cloth bag. Your mother's tears have stopped now. She's smiling.

Together you pull out the bag. You dust it down. She opens it. Black and purple material spills out into her hands, free of the dust and grime that coat its container. Your mother's smile seems bittersweet somehow, like when she's telling you a meaningful story about your father, yet... There's something hopeful in her expression. Her eyes catch the light glancing off the sword. Her blue irises glow.

"What is it?" You ask, puzzled, feeling like this should mean something to you. It doesn't.

She stands, holding the garment out. It's a coat, with purple lining, gold trimmings around the edges and an eye shaped pattern lining the sleeves.

"It was your father's coat," Lucina says simply. "It's yours now. Happy tenth birthday Morgan."

* * *

The dream leaves you feeling melancholy. You climb out of your bed. The candle lights up the room as you reach for quill and ink. Meticulously, you try, one word at a time, to write down those feelings. Some nights it is straightforward. This night is not one of those.

The you in the dream, the child growing up in an apocalyptic world, she's too innocent to realise. She doesn't know... but you do. She sees the purple lightning and feels uneasy. You wake up and know that it's the sign of your father, no, the beast that took him over. Grima.

How must your mother have felt, you wonder. She went through it all, only to live through it again... Knowing that she failed? The dreams remind you how near impossible it is that you now get to laugh and joke with Robin. On nights like these you struggle to wrap your mind around it. You miss your mother even more.

The quill scratches the parchment. Ink stains your hands. The candlelight flickers with each of your sighs. The door creaks.

You look up, surprised, but pleasantly so. It has been a while.  
"Hey, troublemaker." You smile, pleased to see young Morgan at the door, even though it's well past her bedtime. "You're not still looking for your birthday present, are you?"

She pulls her tongue out at you.  
"Nuh, huh." She shakes her head, clapping her hands dramatically before sitting herself on the edge of your desk. She's in her night gown. Her bed hair is probably a perfect match for yours. "I found a lovely chessboard! Thank you, aunty Morgan!"

"You're welcome," you grin, reaching to dab your quill in fresh ink. She sits peacefully as you finish writing your sentence. The gift she and Robin got you is right behind her: a lovely blue tunic that you look forward to wearing often.

"Hey," little Morgan stage whispers once she sees you put your feather down. "You'll never guess what I dreamed of!"

You smirk. She can easily read the contents of your journal from where she's sat. She knows full well that you and she have shared the same dreams for as long as she can remember. Still, it is a game she likes to play, and you indulge her.

"What did you dream of, Morgan?"

"I dreamt of mother!" She says, bouncing. She leaps off the desk to twirl in delight.

"Did you, now?" You chuckle. She used to come to your room often in the middle of the night to discuss her dreams of her mother. Your mother. The woman who disappeared when she was three. You'd thought she'd grown out of needing to speak with you about it.

"Yep! And she gave me a present too! Even though there was nothing to give, she still found me a birthday present." She chatters on excitedly, not once mentioning the despair that little Morgan in the dream had felt, nor the fear. She even talks of the half-memories that come after the dreams, snippets of recollection that form as you wake up. There's an impromptu party, grandmother and both Inigos dance. There's song and partying. Masked Gerome and his wyvern find a supply of water too.

Little Morgan's enthusiasm is contagious. You feel your unease melt away. You smile.

"Let me show you something..." You stand, stepping around your desk to your cupboard. Little Morgan peers over your shoulder as you rummage in the pile at the bottom.

"Wait... Is that? It can't be..."

You smile, your hand running along the Levin sword's scabbard. The cloak folded beneath it is so worn, there's no point in keeping it except for sentiment. You'd always thought you'd inherited it from your father... Now, you know.

"It is." You whisper as Morgan gasps in awe. These were the presents your mother gave you.


	4. Safe travels, you two!

Chapter 4: "Safe travels, you two!"

* * *

Cordelia leads your dark flier to your position in the grounds, its wings already twitching in anticipation. You smile at the Falcon Knight. Princess Lucina leaps towards the red-haired woman, before remembering her manners and nodding her thanks. Cordelia chuckles, and you smile. The two share some banter as you approach your mount and double check the saddle's tack, as Cordelia taught you. Frederick's wife is a good teacher. She helps you and Lucina load your bags as the dark Pegasus neighs.

"Safe travels, you two!" The exalt hails from the steps of the courtyard. His cape flutters in the light evening breeze. Chrom has aged well in this age of peace. His eyes find yours, and you feel slight surprise at the warmth therein.

You haven't spent much time with him in the last ten years, but you know he still wishes you well. In amongst the books Robin got you to carry on your birthday you'd found a card from both him and Olivia. Your throat goes dry as you remember he is your grandfather. It's not a thought that occurs to you often.

"Thanks!" You croak. You wonder when Chrom started feeling so distant to you. You try not to think on it, on the flashes of a dream you shared with a three-year-old Morgan... She was too young to understand the meaning of the ruined painting in the castle, to recognise the man crowned too young, the mark on his shoulder that your mother shared in her eye.

"We'll be back before you know it, Father," young Lucina smiles as Chrom comes nearer, Olivia looking tearful at his side. She grimaces as he squeezes her in a tight hug, only letting go when the thumps she gives his back grow harsh. He laughs as Olivia takes his place, despite the Princess's protests.

"Here, don't think you're getting away without a hug either," he smirks at you, and you realise that between your mount and the chuckling Cordelia, you have nowhere to run.

You take off moments later. The princess's arms rest gently around what feels like bruising ribs. You'd forgotten how bone crushing your grandfather's hugs could be... You close your eyes a moment and take a deep breath.

You feel on your skin the warmth of the summer sun as it nears the horizon. The breeze races through your short hair, ruffling it further as Storm, your mount, bats her wings to gain more height. You hear the exhilaration in young Lucina's voice as she gasps behind you, delighting in the flight as much as you are no doubt. You open your eyes. The ground is already so far below, the palace basking in the summer glow as you round a turret.

"Oh, isn't that Robin?" Lucina points out, and you smile. Your father is at the window of the tallest tower, barely keeping young Morgan from falling in her enthusiasm to wave the two of you off. He's shouting something at you. You can't quite hear, for the rush of wind and the distance, but you have no doubt he's reminding you of your planned route, the areas of likely turbulence to avoid and where best to camp for the night. You wave back and smile. Lucina lets out a laugh behind you.

"Having fun back there?" you chuckle.

"Flying is amazing!" The princess crows. "Cordelia would never take me up this high."

Still, you feel her grip tighten around your waist as you glide over Ylisstol city, the people likely cheering below. You already feel the cold of the higher altitudes burnishing your cheeks. You're glad for the leather gloves on your hands now.

"Get comfortable, Lucina," you glance back towards her, endeared by her enthusiasm, "this is going to take a while." Your turn your eyes back to the horizon in front of you. Your first landmark should be visible now. There, the island to the west... A night's rest there, and then it'll be just a days' flight to Valm.

Storm's tread thunders against the air currents as you increase the speed. It's been a while since you last flew this high and this fast upon her back... The last time... The last time was with your mother, just after father sacrificed himself to end Grima.

You think of the palace glowing, the warmth at your back and the delight in your passenger's voice. You think of your father in the tower, smiling with his daughter at his side. Momentarily, you find peace.


	5. Tharja, as always, is an experience

Chapter 5: Tharja, as always, is an experience.

* * *

Tharja, as always, is an experience.

"Flower and Beast, Virion dear, that was a lovely feast," the dark-haired woman leans across the chair to grasp her husband's knee. "Do give the cook my compliments."

"But of course my dear," the Duke of Rosanne replies with a delighted flourish. His lacy sleeves are a stark contrast to his wife's dark corset. She has, thankfully, retired the dark mage outfit that showed far too much flesh for one now her age, especially in the vineyard rich land of Rosanne. Nevertheless, you feel like you are intruding when Virion casts his gaze over Tharja's outfit. "The staff heard that the duchy of Rosanne was to host the exalted Princess, there was no way they would deliver anything less. Your glowing praise shall be passed on."

The rich chuckle with which Tharja responds has you staring into your glass of wine, cheeks aflame. You are far from the innocent child you were when you first joined them in the war effort, nor are you normally bothered by public displays of affection... but, as your father mentioned before, Tharja has a way of making people feel distinctly uncomfortable without necessarily meaning to.

"Why don't you do that now?" She purrs, Virion sitting up straighter than he would for anyone else.

"As you wish, milady! Virion away!" The duke flourishes as he leaves the room. "I shall return as soon as it is done."

"Bring some cheese and crackers back with you while you're there," she waves as he leaves the room. You're suddenly very aware that you are alone with her in the drawing room.

Not that you didn't expect that.  
"Robin's asking after you," you say, pre-empting what will surely be her first question. You smile as her face lights up, as much as her fringe allows at least. You pull out a package from your pocket. "He gave me this. For you. Said you could help us some more with the Plegian drought situation."

The duchess grasps the package from your hands with great reverence. A tart thank you is uttered, but you can tell it is heartfelt. The packet finds its way into a hidden pocket in her cape, and then her gaze finds yours. You gulp. You find it hard to imagine the shy dark mage your father described first meeting once. Her eyes are intense.

"You're still having those dreams, aren't you," she states. It's not a question. "Tell me about them."

You groan inwardly, trying to stay polite and not show your discomfort too obviously.  
"There's not much to tell, really..." You take a swift gulp of the wine, and then regret it. The wine of Rosanne is not for scoffing down, it is to be enjoyed slowly. It is rich and strong. You taste flowers on your tongue and already feel the rising heat from the alcohol in your system. You can't see to check, but you have no doubt that your cheeks are turning red.

You hear Tharja's rich chuckle. Of course, she'd planned to get you flustered. Well played.

"Well, I say... It's not like you to keep secrets Morgan." She waves her hand in the air, smirking. "I could make you tell me, but that would be no fun."

You've seen Tharja's curses at work. She's a dab hand at them. They've played no small part in motivating the people of Rosanne to welcome Virion back and rebuild. You know, because you heard the whispers as you coasted into their grounds, hidden by the setting sun. A stable hand complained of a sore back. Another whispered of the Duchess... Lucina had been oblivious, napping until the hooves hit the ground.

"Why do they interest you anyway?" You ask, trying to rally.

She's quiet as she looks you up and down, her painted nails tapping at her chin. She glances at the door to the drawing room. She shuffles closer.

"She's been getting dreams too, you know." Tharja whispers in your ear. She's too close for comfort, but at this range, you can't ignore the worry on her face. "She won't talk to me about them either, but I know they trouble her..."

"Who-..." and then you realise, your mind going to young Lucina, little Morgan. She means... "You don't mean Noire?"

The unimpressed glare Tharja gives you is all the confirmation you need. She flicks her hair back and stares at the door as she mutters on.

"I only figured it out recently. But once I knew, so much else started to make sense..." Her skirt crumples as she fists the material. Tharja's biting at her thumbnail, a trait your father described many a time, but this is your first time witnessing it. "The flinching for starters... Her paranoia whenever Virion caught a cold..."

"How..." The question takes a moment to form. You put your glass down, stumble on the next syllable. "How did you find out?"

Tharja stands, goes to the door and checks the corridor.  
"Come with me." The duchess of Rosanne says, as imperious as Maribelle. Her cape flutters as she slinks out of the room.

You trip as you get up, now doubly aware of the drink in your system, but soon find your feet. She leads you up a staircase to a landing nearby. She opens the glass doors onto a balcony. As you follow, Tharja puts a finger to her lips, the universal sign for keep quiet.

The balcony looks out on a small garden to the back of Virion's manor. The railing is rusting, and the wall overgrown with vines which obscure much of the view. A portion of the building not yet restored from Virion's exile then... Making sure to keep you beneath the ivy, Tharja points through a gap to the garden below.

It's a small herb garden, not dissimilar to the one Sumia had you weeding back home. Unlike the vines above, it is well looked after. The earth is meticulously clear of unwanted weeds and little signs mark out the various crops.

"Noire likes to talk to the plants," Tharja explains, her voice the merest whisper. She smiles, and the image sears itself in your mind. It's so warm and proud. "She's good with plants. She'll make an excellent herbalist." She suddenly raises her hand and makes a shushing sound.

Out of sheer reflex from babysitting little Morgan, you cover your mouth.

"Come Lucina!" You hear the voice from down below. It's been years since you last heard it. You nearly don't recognise it. It's Noire, but a Noire different from the one you knew. "Quick, before my father sees us."

She'd been quiet as she greeted you and Lucina with her parents. She'd stayed quiet during the meal, only nodding when Virion and Tharja, to Lucina's obvious relief, suggested the two run off and have fun, or, as Virion eloquently put it: toured the grounds.

"Shh, he'll hear us," young Noire's voice is level, confident. A far cry from the stuttering or bellowing that was the hallmark of your old friend. You hear Lucina trying to stifle her giggles. From further off you hear Virion's voice. That must be him on his way back from the kitchens. Tharja doesn't seem worried, instead focussed on melting into the vine shadows to get a better view of below. You crouch down and peer through a gap at the bottom of the railing.

"That's the coast clear," Noire grins at Lucina, the princess standing up from behind the bush the two hid behind.

"So this is your secret garden?" Lucina asks, turning with a wondrous expression on her face.

Noire nods. "Yes. You're not allowed to tell anyone! I have the only key." The heir to the duchy of Rosanne grins as she shows the item on her necklace before hiding it in her tunic.

"It's beautiful," Lucina smiles. "I recognise a couple of these, but what are those? Their smell... It's wonderful."

Tharja touches your shoulder, a soft whisper reaching your ears.  
"We should go..." You both move to leave, but you can't help but stop in your tracks.

"Oh, yes. Noire? You said you wanted to tell me something?"

Hearing Lucina's query fuels your curiosity, and you can tell that Tharja is intrigued as well. Despite the clear dilemma on her face, your host can't bring herself to leave as her daughter replies.

"Princess Lucina, I... I trust you." There, there's that stammer... "Pr-promise me? You won't tell anyone else?"

"You have my solemn oath." Typical Lucina, her promise is made in all seriousness without question.

"I've... I've been having these dreams, and... You're in them. We..."

Tharja's grabs your shoulder and drags you back into the building before you can hear any more.

"Not a word," she says, glaring at you.

Virion appears at the door to the drawing room, a platter of cheese and crackers in hand as he hears you come down the stairs. "Ladies! Our snacks are here."

Tharja seems withdrawn as Virion entertains you with the details of his trip to the kitchen, happy to fill in for Tharja's silence with chat and snacks and offers of more wine. You refuse, taking only water or tea instead, mostly so you can keep your eye on Tharja's facial expression in between pun battles and old anecdotes about the war.

Tharja's face is hard to read, but you've learnt enough from your father and your short time with Noire from the bad future to be able to decipher her expressions, with focus. Her initial closed off features and inward gaze? Surprise, possibly, at seeing her daughter confide so easily in Lucina. There's a touch of guilt, a feeling you've never heard associated with her, but it looks so much like Noire's that you know it instantly. And then comes relief, as she seems to have figured out how she feels about it all, and she starts to join in the conversation again. By the time your travel weary muscles start clamouring for bed, Tharja is laughing loudly and polishing off the last of a bottle of red.

Virion offers to show you to your room, but Tharja instead begs on him to check on the girls and leads you there instead. She hums as you totter after her, and then smirks at you as she opens the door to your chamber. She lingers a moment.

"I was going to ask if you could help Noire talk about her worries. Seems Lucina beat you to it." Tharja leans against the door, looking nearly motherly. "It's not good for that girl to bottle her feelings up. I'm... proud of her."

"I'm... I'm glad we could help." You're tired, exhausted, and though you appreciate Tharja confiding in you about these things, you really want your bed.

"I won't keep you up any longer," Tharja says, clearly getting the hint. "Just... know that I don't think my Noire is the only one affected."

And of course she leaves you with that nugget and a goodnight. Thankfully, your body is too wiped to let your brain care. You black out the minute your head hits the pillow.


	6. Dreams like yours

Chapter 6: " Dreams like yours..."

* * *

Thunder rumbles, loud and close. Too close. You feel the static raising the hair on your arms, the fear shooting up and down your spine. Lightning flashes across your vision. The world turns violet. You close your eyes, but the glowing silhouette is still imprinted in your eyelids.

You can't process all that though. You're struggling just to breathe.

"Curses..." A voice hisses through the ringing. Hands roughly grab you and try to pull you away. You resist. You hear shouting, incomprehensible. You only realise it's yours because your throat hurts, and your lungs burn.

"Blood and thunder child! We need to move. Now!"

It is only then that the voice seems to notice what you are holding on to. A stream of curses fills the air, only drowned out by another rumble of thunder as magic is cast and the beast flying above responds.

"Help! Help her! Please!" You finally find your words. The body in your arms is too still, too quiet to be the bossy teenager you so loved to tease. You don't understand why any of this is happening.

You try to remember the lady's name. She's usually good at helping great aunt Lissa. She knows healing, right?

The fact that she goes quiet and still as she checks the princess's vitals doesn't reassure.

Finally, the woman stands. You remember her name now. Noire. She lifts the inert Lucina up and starts running. She's shouting for her mother. No one shouts for Tharja with that kind of urgency in their voice, ever.

You shakily get to your feet. Your eyes find the silhouette, on the hill opposite. Their white hair is barely perceptible against the backdrop of the foul fell-dragon. Your hands find the hilt of a sword, Princess Luci's. An anger you never knew you could feel takes charge.

* * *

You awake from your dream mid-scream.

It's disorienting. Your heart hurts. The only thing stopping you from screaming more and lashing out is the touch on your shoulder. Hands. Warm hands. The dream, no, memory, is still active. You look up.

"Lu-lu-... Luci-..." You can't get the name out. Your breathing is all wrong. You try to remember how to control it. Your emotional overload gets in the way.

Young Lucina looks worried, confused, but very much alive and well. She jumps as you wrap your arms around her but doesn't struggle as you pull her in close.

"I... I heard..." She doesn't finish the sentence. You're whimpering. Her hand finds the back of your neck. "Are you alright?"

No, not really. Your mind is still in the dream, the memory. Your ten-year old self is falling apart. Your mother is restraining you, carting you off, away from the bad man with the white hair who hurt your friend. When you close your eyes, all you see is that young Lucina, her face blistering at an alarming rate in the flash of Grima's lightning. The teenager's hands weren't pushing you back anymore, too limp even to hold onto her father's sword. She had only just become strong enough to wield it.

You can't find the will to push the terror, the guilt away like this. You force your eyes open. You take in the princess before you. Her face is not lean from hunger, her eyes are bright and peaceful. The only frown on her face is one of mild concern.

"I'm..." You gulp in a large breath of air. You remember the mantra you've always used to calm your nerves. You can do this. People have got your back. Your father, Robin, is there for you. Grima is gone. And... and... and now you remember your mother, saying her words to you, promising to always be there, that hope will never die. You shudder. You feel a tear run down your cheek. Gratitude fills you. Princess Lucina is rubbing the back of your neck and you are so relieved. "I'm glad you're... You're safe!"

Seemingly reassured, she wriggles out of your embrace, and sits down next to you, patting your arm.  
"Uhm. Do you... Would you like to...?" She looks embarrassed. You get the impression she's not used to being on the other side of this conversation.

You don't want to talk about your dream. Not to her. Normally you'd pour it all out into your diary. If you still couldn't sleep, you'd try and drown your thoughts in a good novel; or force your eyes shut by studying one of the tactics manuals that were too stuffy and dry to be of any other use. If you really needed to talk, your father was usually only a couple of doors away.

You know that's not an option tonight.

"I don't. I... Can you?" You're still shivering. It occurs to you that this must have been what Lucina felt when Robin sent you to her a few months back. "Tell me about your evening. Please?"

She smiles, and you see Lucina. Not your mother. Not the child from the future that you're from. Just Lucina, Chrom's daughter, the child who taught little Morgan how to sneak out of the castle grounds when she was seven. She shakes her head as she tells you about the way the staff in Virion's castle seem to be stepping on eggshells whenever Tharja is mentioned. She laughs as she mentions spotting Virion on his way to the kitchens, dancing and twirling. Lucina smiles as she describes how lovely a friend Noire has become within a mere evening.

"I've... I've found someone else who has dreams like me... Like us?" Lucina says, eyeing you cautiously. "Noire told me of a dream she had last week. It was the same as mine, just from her point of view. From Risen chasing us out of Ylisstol to the ramshackle hut we found refuge in, in the woods. She only had three arrows left. Sir Frederick was fretting about the horses."

You try to smile. You don't have the strength to explain the difference between your dreams and hers. Theirs. Tharja's concerns come back to mind.

"So Noire's dreams are sequential too?" You ask. Lucina nods. You pause, thinking on Tharja's last words... about there being others too... "Well, I guess you two had best keep in touch. What time is it anyway?"

Lucina looks sheepish as you find the time piece. You sigh as you realise how little of the night is left.  
"You've not slept yet, have you?" You say, looking at Lucina, still in her travel clothes. "I thought Virion was sending you two to bed hours ago. Did he not find you and Noire?"

"Oh, Duke Virion did find us..." Lucina is sitting on her hands, trying not to fidget. A trick you've used many a time when you didn't want to be caught being untruthful. "Noire just... convinced him to leave us be. We had long conversations and I was just on my way to bed when I... When I heard you were having troubled sleep."

You push your covers away and stand in your nightgown, ushering the teenage princess to the door.  
"Don't blame me if you fall asleep during the official functions tomorrow! Shoo."

Lucina backs away, abashed but still smiling. Your heart aches as you remember the young Lucina from your dream. The memories of what happens after surface. You see in your mind's eye the older girl, her face scarred, her brand obscured by her wound, the blisters. She's alive, conscious, but distracted by the pain. Your mother hovers over her, holding her hand. Grandmother Olivia is weeping in the corner of the makeshift shelter. Aunt Lissa and Tharja look grave, but hopeful.

The worst bit about the memories, you realise, as you watch princess Lucina shuffle into the corridor and head to the bedroom door next along, was how your mother looked at you.

She had looked at you with remorse.

"Good night, Lucina." You say.

"Good night, miss Morgan," she replies. She hesitates, her hand on her door handle. She looks about to ask something, then stops. "Remember," she says instead. "Dreams like yours only come once a night, right?"

You laugh. She grins and leaves. You close the door to your room and sigh. Shaking your head, you fetch the diary from your pack. Your hands shake as you open a fresh bottle of ink. You take a deep breath. You just need to go through the motions. Think of it like a game of chess with dad.

Your penmanship is sloppier than usual. It helps, somewhat.


	7. The walk to Wyvern Valley is short

Chapter 7: The walk to Wyvern Valley is short

* * *

You wake up groggy, running late for breakfast. One of Virion's maids directs you to a small parlour. There's a note from Tharja, apologising for the late night and recommending you take it easy while she and Virion look after Lucina for the day. You are somewhat relieved to not be required. Rosanne likes pompous pageantry a bit too much for your tastes. Noire joins you afterwards, having dodged the formalities by virtue of not having quite reached the official age yet.

Noire is a bit awkward at first. It makes you nostalgic for her missing counterpart. She soon finds herself more at ease, once you crack out the chess board. You're brutally reminded of Virion's skills at the game. He's been teaching her well. You find yourself giving the game your full focus.

By the time an exhausted Lucina is brought before you, there's a smile on your face as you declare checkmate. Noire laughs and surrenders, no outburst, no violence. Shame, you had a right zinger prepared if she had protested.

"How was your day?" You ask Lucina, as you join the Duke and his family for a small dinner.

Lucina hangs her head and sighs. Virion excitedly details the proceedings to you for her. It takes some time. Tharja sits and chats with Noire. You catch the occasional glance of them looking cute, as close a mother and daughter as can be... Any envious thoughts are chased by the next glimpse, in which the two look equally creepy. Maybe a bit too close.

Lucina attempts to run off with a delighted Noire after the meal. Tharja smirks. Virion nods approvingly as you find yourself grabbing the princess by the arm.  
"Princess Lucina," you say, attempting your best impersonation of Freddy-bear. "You need to pack. We're leaving in an hour."

A whine. She slouches, in perfect teenager form.  
"Do I have to? I thought we might stay another night..."  
She sees you tilting your head and raising your brow. Crossing your arms helps you maintain a stern expression.  
"Ugh. Fine. My apologies." She bows politely and then runs off to her room.

Virion gives you an approving thump on the back. Chaperoning is hard work.

* * *

Flying feels liberating. You feel sharp, invigorated as Storm's wings pull you higher and higher into the starlit sky. Night comes early in Rosanne, but the way to your next destination is well sign posted, with torches at regular intervals along the road. It should be a short flight.

Behind you, Lucina is nodding off, if the little thumps upon your back are anything to go by. She doesn't quite seem to fall asleep though, despite having had no issue on your way to duke Virion's. You tilt your head back.  
"You okay back there?" You'd expected her to fall asleep immediately after take-off, what with the short night and long day on her feet... "You're not trying to knock yourself senseless on my shoulder blades, are you?"  
"What? No!" She mumbles, clearly confused. Of course. She wouldn't get the reference.

Not yet anyway. You chase that thought away with an awkward laugh.

"So what's up?" You pull the reigns back a bit, letting your mount know to slow down a bit. Storm seems to be enjoying her time in the air. "You're allowed to grab a quick nap you know, that is what these are for." You tap the straps fastening the pair of you to Storm's saddle. "Storm won't mind." Much. It is easier taking corners when your passengers turn with you, but their route was straight anyway.

Silence stretches between the pair of you. Lucina takes her time responding. You make a conscious effort not to babble.

"I... I didn't sleep well last night either..." She admits, finally. She sounds small, young as she goes on. "I... I'm scared of what my next dream will bring."

You hesitate. You don't want to interfere. You don't want to risk her asking you... But you ask her anyway. "Do you want to talk about it?" You remember how you felt when she came to you last night. It sucked.

"I..." She hesitates. You understand. "We're away to see Lady Cherche and the esteemed swordsman Lon'qu, yes?" You nod. She continues. "I... I dreamt... I dreamt that they didn't come back."

Oh. Oh dear. That must be awkward.  
"Oh..." You say. You don't know what else to say.

"It's fine... I'll be fine..." She says. She doesn't sound convinced. Nor did your mother when she said the same. Your heart aches.

The rest of the ride is in awkward silence. Lucina doesn't fall asleep.

* * *

Landing a dark flier in wyvern valley isn't recommended. Even less at night... So you bring Storm down in the nearest village, as agreed by post, and start looking for your host.

"Morgan." A deep voice says. You frown, expecting Lady Cherche. You turn.

"Princess..." It's Lon'qu. The Feroxi Swordsman hasn't changed much in the years since you saw him last. His skin has gained a tan, some wrinkles, and you see several strands of silver in his hair, but he still looks to be in good shape. He's even smiling, a half smile that you can't decipher. Is he sad? Amused? What a frustrating man.

"Where... Is Lady Cherche...?" Lucina blanches a little at the sight, obviously expecting the worse. It makes you nervous. Remembering her manners somewhat, she adds, "Lon'qu, sir. Nice to see you."

Lon'qu rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms.  
"You best come see with me." He shakes his head. He huffs... Or does he chuckle?

The walk to Wyvern Valley is short, but the trepidation seems endless. There's a heavy feeling in the air, like a storm building up as you reach the cliffs that the wyverns favour. Lon'qu leads you to a house built out from one of the stone walls, a large cave dug into the wall next to.

"You will find," Lon'qu says, struggling mid-sentence, "Cherche and the boy in there."  
His hand is covering is mouth, his expression hard to read in the dim light.

It's only as you follow Lucina to the entrance of the cave, and see a sight to behold, that you realise... Lon'qu is killing himself laughing.

"Minervy-kins, gerroff! You're heavy..." Cherche, the wyvern knight who normally seems so unphased by anything, is being crowded by her Wyvern and Son. "Gerome, I swear, if you keep twitching after begging me all day to fit this shirt for you... I will stab you with these pins, Son."

The sheer relief on Lucina's face is palpable. Teenage Gerome just looks flustered and clingy.

"What... Exactly is going on here?" You ask, frowning, before giggles start to bubble from your lips. Lon'qu's mirth is clearly contagious.

"Apparently," Cherche drawls, a large lick from her wyvern cascading reams of her hair into her face. "Today is stick-to-me like glue day. Care to join us Lucina?" Despite the rather fed-up expression on her face, Cherche welcomes Lucina with a warm embrace.

"I'll get the rooms ready," Lon'qu advises, fleeing before his wife can give him a sermon for letting out a surprisingly loud guffaw.

Well, you think, as you set on a ledge and watch Lucina chat with Cherche as Gerome and Minerva awkwardly maintain contact, that's interesting.

Tharja did mention that she believed other children shared dreams of the bad future. If Gerome and Minerva's odd behaviour was any indication... Apparently there's a wyvern sharing those nightly visions too.


	8. Why do our dreams Suck?

Chapter 8: "Why do our dreams... Suck...?"

* * *

You wake up the next day, groggy and sad. You startle Gerome with a tight hug at breakfast. He's awkward and flustered and flees to hide behind his father, much to Cherche's amusement. You're doubly reminded of the Gerome you used to know and... the one who'd died in your dream.

Your dreams are really starting to suck.

Lucina eyes you curiously as the others start discussing the plans for the day. Chrom has arranged for Cherche to give Lucina a lesson on Wyverns and their patterns of flight and behaviour, before you are to make a day trip to the Mila tree and visit Tiki. You don't know whether to feel relieved or weary when the lesson is interrupted mid-morning by Cordelia appearing on her Pegasus, causing much disruption amongst the wild wyverns.

"You need to come back home, both of you," Cordelia says. She looks tired, as does her mount. Lon'qu quickly leads the Pegasus away as its rider engages Cherche in quiet conversation. Princess Lucina turns to you in worry. Her brand flickers as she frowns. From atop Minerva's back, young Gerome hollers a question. His mother shakes her head. He dismounts.

"Come, get some rest before you fly back at least," the wyvern rider says, leading Cordelia by the hand back to their house. Awkwardly, the rest of you follow. Once Lady Cordelia is given a bed, Cherche makes you all tea to explain.

"Exalt's orders, I'm afraid. Lucina, it's been an absolute delight to have you here. I'm afraid we'll have to finish our lesson another time." She passes around a tray of biscuits. "Don't worry, Cordelia assures me that it is just a precaution and nothing serious."

She looks at you, holding your gaze with kindness. "I'll deliver a message to Tiki apologising on your behalf. I believe you've both been sorely missed."

Your mind is aflame with theories and speculation, but from the look Cherche gives you... You feel as though she knows more than she's letting on.

"Lucina, once you've finished your tea, go make sure your bag's packed. I imagine Lady Cordelia will want us in the air immediately after lunch." The lady of the house is very matter of fact as she reaches for a loaf of bread. Her eyes are sharp as she glances at her son. "And Gerome, if you could help the Princess get her things in the saddle bags. Lon'qu's already away to fetch Storm."

You sit, too bewildered to even grab a biscuit. You wonder what could possibly have prompted Cordelia's orders. Your tea grows cold and bitter in your hands.

* * *

It's a long trek back. Lucina rides with Cordelia, which is probably for the best. Cordelia's been operating on minimum sleep but is still sharper than you are today. There's no greater feeling of shame and embarrassment for a trained strategist. You find it hard to care.

At least Lucina gets you smiling and chuckling a bit when you land at the halfway point for the night. You hear her startle in her sleep. Cordelia reassures her easily. You doze back off into the farce that your dreams are becoming. It's hard for the you in the dream to look at her mother. The death of the masked Gerome has hit her hardest.

The sun is nearing its zenith when finally, the Pegasi reach Ylisstol. Lucina pouts as Cordelia makes sure to bring you in at a reasonable height. It makes it easy for the occupants of the city and palace to see your approach. By the time you land in the courtyard, a crowd has gathered. You frown. Something seems out of place.

It's immediately clear to you when Lucina climbs off her saddle. Her feet haven't even touched the ground when little Morgan tackles her with a ferocious hug. Even your father, Robin, is close at hand, which is unusual. You dismount, your nerves fizzing with energy as you feel your brain finally start to connect the dots.

"Hey," Chrom says, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "Sorry to cut your journey short."

You don't even need to ask the why, not anymore. You follow his gaze to Robin, who in turn is disentangling his younger daughter from a rather embarrassed Princess. Your eyes meet little Morgan's. She sniffles, wipes at the tears coating her cheeks. You step towards her and kneel, down to her height.

"Hey," you say in turn. Your voice feels rough, raspy, but comes out as a gentle whisper. "We're back."

She tries, bless her, to hold her head high, to keep her emotions in check. Heaven knows the mother you share in the dream world tried to teach you that often enough. Her fists are taught, her shoulders shake. You feel your eyes moisten as you bite your lip. She caves first. The ten-year old flings herself at your shoulders, fresh sobs cutting up the words she whispers into your ear.

"Why... Why do our dreams... Suck so much?"

You wish you could give her a comforting answer. Instead you give in to tears yourself and clutch her tightly in your arms. It's the first time you've seen her this affected by the dreams. You guess that a bad future is not something one can remain unphased by for long.


	9. You miss them

Chapter 9: You miss them

* * *

Time passes and routines change... Morgan seeks you out more at nights, querying aspects of your dreams that she's now of an age to notice. Your father seems relieved since it means you take over when it comes to talking about the changes that come with puberty, not that he didn't have a book ready for the eventuality. You smile as you watch the kids start to take interest in notions of romance. Lucina especially seems to turn a rather interesting shade whenever the son of a wyvern rider manages to come over for a visit. Interesting how it matches the colour of his hair.

At some point, Lucina and Morgan are dragged into your office by a determined Severa, whose usually bright smile is tempered by a determined focus.

"Say, Miss Morgan, how come you don't have a husband?" Her bluntness takes you by surprise, even more so since you've now established that she's one of the few children whose counterparts travelled back in time to not have dreams of the future past. It's like being addressed by her snarky counterpart. You've missed it. You chuckle. Lucina seems absolutely mortified. Morgan, bless her, looks genuinely curious.

"Oh my! Why do you ask?" You try to buy yourself some time. It's not really a question you've had cause to think about in a long time. Your heart flutters a touch at the thought of long forgotten what-ifs and maybes...

"Does that mean you like women?" Morgan asks, prompting you to drop your quill. Ink splatters across your page.

"What, I..." You have a hard time stopping your mouth from gaping. You'd expect that question coming from Severa, you'd understand someone like Lucina or Inigo wondering, but hearing it from your younger self...! You're understandably flustered. "By the hero king Marth, why do you need to know?"

"It'd be okay, you know..." Lucina pipes up, finally getting over her embarrassment to participate in the interrogation. You resentfully dab at the ink splatter with your blotter. Your cheeks feel like they are burning.

"Yeah," Morgan pipes up. "I'm pretty sure Kjelle likes women as much as the boys... Same as me!"

That grabs your attention. Young Morgan smiles up at you, all innocence and charm. Blast the girl.

"Anyway!" Severa declares, crossing her arms and smirking. "That still doesn't tell us why she's unmarried. Plenty of nice girls out there."

"I'm not...! Ugh..." You roll your eyes and smile. Clearly now is not the time to show how flustered they are getting you. "Look, I just..." Come on, Morgan, you can come up with a satisfying answer. "I love books."  
You say it dramatically, thumping your palms down on the impressive piles on your table. Morgan seems instantly satisfied. You get the impression that's the kind of answer she'd expect from Dad these days.

Severa just chuckles.  
"Alright, if you say so." She shrugs and grabs young Morgan by the shoulders. "Come on, let's go find Kjelle and the others. I want to play a card game."

Lucina lingers, ducking her head down and apologising for the interruption before leaving in turn. You're pretty certain she's not convinced by your answer.

The whole incident lingers in your mind as you go through the rest of your day. You are sending a parcel to your father in Plegia from one of the towers when you catch a glimpse of the children, no, teenagers in the courtyard. The group has grown. There's a good dozen of them now that you readily recognise, intermingled with the children of staff, visiting diplomats and fellow veterans from the war... Lucina, now nearing her fifteenth birthday, has inadvertently recreated the tight-knit circle of friends that your mother had. It makes your heart ache.

You remember why you never sought out love.

You miss them, you realise. You've missed them ever since they started disappearing. It started not too long after Grima's defeat, you recall. You'd barely got accustomed to living in peacetime. You were helping Lucina look after an infant Morgan when the news came of the first departure. It was a letter from Inigo, Owain and Severa. Away to seek a thrill, news of an adventure had drawn them to a far-flung land. Owain's letter writing was always so flowery. They expected to return at some point, but after a couple of years, people gave up hope of seeing them again, especially when... Well...

Lucina, your Lucina, who fought at your side, who led the charge to defeat Grima, even if it meant she would lose the man that she loved in the attempt... She was the last to disappear.

You remember that night, sometimes. You'd fallen asleep in the armchair, in child Princess Lucina's room. Storytime was a grand affair back then. You remember her voice, as she brushed the hair off your face. You remember hearing her whisper a promise to the child in the bed. Toddler Morgan in your arms shifted and you fell back to sleep. You never saw her leave. There was no letter. Her Falchion was left in her room.

It would be unfair, you think, if you didn't understand the why... But you do. It doesn't make it any easier.

So you get back to work and idly wonder... Why three specific children do not remember the bad future in their dreams?

* * *

_Author's Note:_  
_Next chapter won't be up until it's ready. I can't say when. But I definitely still have a lot to put into this story!_  
_Sorry for the wait to come, and many thanks to those of you reading!_


	10. They're back

Chapter 10: They're back. 

* * *

Princess Lucina is sixteen now. She's the same age her father was when he formed the Shepherds, so she, naturally, asks if she can follow in his footsteps. He's a bit reticent to allow her to recruit friends much younger than her, until Owain reminds Chrom that his little sister Lissa travelled with him and Nah pipes up that her father Ricken was younger still when he joined. At Robin's suggestion, he caves, allowing the venture on condition that they have at least one veteran in their ranks. You're the natural pick.

Robin chuckles as you make excited gestures and deplore the lack of bandits for the kids to hone their skills against. You still have other duties though. He sends you off to visit Tiki at the Mila tree to return an item he'd borrowed from her. It certainly proved useful in addressing the drought situation in Plegia. Henry and Libra also send dried fruit in thanks. You somehow manage to resist the urge to snack on them as you make your way across Valm.

You decide to climb the stairs. It'll be good exercise for the marching you're going to have to put the kids through. You don't get far before stopping in confusion. You hear voices from behind some of the tree's gargantuan roots... Familiar voices.

That snide, dismissive tone... Those grand proclamations... That deep, placating voice that lilts in song... It can't be.

But you soon find that it is. It is them. They're back. 

* * *

They haven't changed, but they are certainly not the same as they used to be.

Owain's a spellcaster now. There's no sword at his hip, instead you see a pouch full of feathers and scrolls. You look away upon noticing that his top now reveals a toned abdomen and hints of a broad chest. He laughs and ruffles your hair. You notice the ring on his finger.

Severa's hair is now as red as her mother's. She's lost that wariness in her eyes, instead planting her feet firmly on the ground and challenging you with a scowl as she drapes her arm around Owain's waist. Her outfit is that of an experienced mercenary, no longer that of a sprinter.  
"You've grown taller kid. Sheesh," she smirks, for the blink of an eye allowing you to see her genuine delight in seeing you. "You must have found someone to make you some really good stew to grow that tall!"

You laugh, you blush, remembering her cooking efforts back in the day. She was never satisfied until you finally gave her stew a glowing review.  
"The Exalt's kitchen provides plenty of good stew, I won't lie." Henry and Libra's dried fruit in your pack are feeling doubly tempting now. Maybe Tiki would share them with the whole group in celebration of their return once she saw them? "I was just on my way to visit Tiki. You must join me!"

"Ah, lady Tiki! It's been far too long, of course we shall!" Inigo's smile is as easy as it ever was. You're embarrassed by how charmed you were by it, back when you were so amnesiac as to not realise you were related. He seems a lot mellower now. It's like he's uncovered the secret to true happiness while he was away, not the mask he used to hide behind. You wonder what his reaction will be when he sees his younger counterpart. Little Inigo is an up and coming dancing star already.

Inigo turns to the two other members of their small travelling party.  
"Girls, we're just away to visit an old acquaintance at the top of the tree. Do you want to join us? Or are you happy to stay here and look after the horses?"

The two women exchange a smile and laugh. "You go on up Dad, we'll stay back. Introduce us to the lady when you get back!"

It takes you a few steps to realise that the woman had called Inigo "Dad" as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You notice the ring on his finger too, and the one on Severa's as you climb ahead. You wonder...

The three ask you many questions about the state of Ylisse since they left. They find it hard to wrap their heads around the fact that it's been thirteen years. Severa swears up and down that it can't have been more than four... And you ponder the rings on their fingers and the grown woman calling Inigo dad... As Owain delivers some flowery speech describing their travels in dimensional pockets. Your head whirls with excitement as you try to solve the puzzle yourself. Severa relents with a pout, Owain kissing her forehead in apology. Whatever he said seems to make sense to Inigo. 

* * *

"So," you say, as you leave a delighted Tiki, licking sugar from the dried fruit off your fingers, before pointing one at Inigo. "You're a dad. You. Inigo." His coy blush as he smiles warmly is adorable and it is not the response that you're after. You prod him in the chest. "Explain!"

Owain laughs. "You should probably call him Laslow in front of the girls. They'll probably get really confused otherwise."

"Las-... low?" Your brow creases.

"We changed our names. Something about leaving our pasts behind us and carving a new future for ourselves." Severa's delicately picking at a piece stuck between her teeth as you trot back down the stairs. "I mean we were told to hide our identities, but I don't think that was ever required."

"A strange mission, indeed!" Owain waxes, his arms thrust wide. "But it means the tale of brave Laslow, fair Selena and the great Odin Dark is truly unique!"

"Selena, I like it," you smirk, nudging the swordswoman with a wink. She chuckles, seeing Owain's face at the subtle rebuke of his grand eloquence.

New names, huh? You wonder, thinking back to little Lucina speaking of her brother's fantastical dreams. Still, it doesn't explain everything.

"So, Laslow... How are you the dad to a fully-grown woman? Don't tell me that's your new girlfriend and you encourage her to call you that!"

You watch as he rolls his eyes up, obviously trying to find the words to explain a complicated sequence of events. Then his brow creases, he tilts his head at you, an eyebrow arched with a rare sardonic expression.  
"Says the woman who is older than her grandfather's only daughter."

"Hey!" Fair's fair, you do set an impressive precedent.


	11. Victorious

Chapter 11: Victorious. 

* * *

You come out of the infirmary tent, gingerly testing the bandages around your shoulder. You pout. Brady has told you to go straight to your tent and rest, but you're not feeling very inclined to do so. One of the disadvantages of being the chaperone for Lucina's shepherds is that it's hard to not feel that you are surrounded by children... Even if you know full well from how deftly Brady stitched up the cut on your arm that he remembers all the lessons learnt from his dreams of the future that was averted... Even when, on the rare occasions you witness Lucina pick up a sword and wield it as well as the lance the young princess now favours... You wish sometimes that they hadn't had to learn how to be warriors from their dreams. Sometimes you wish you were still a child too.

You find the campfire but stay just out of its light. You see young Morgan there, smiling and laughing with Laslow's daughter. You know full well she'll give you stick for falling into your own pit while trying to teach Yarne how to make his own. Nearby you see Laslow chatting with young Inigo. Lucina's brother had taken much convincing to join them on their travels, as had young Owain and Severa. You wonder if they realise that the exotic travellers from Nohr are their older counterparts? Maybe they'll never know...

Young Noire and Cynthia are also sat by the fire, completing the numbers of those assigned to night duty. You watch the girls weave friendship bracelets. You hear them gossip about the villagers the group assisted yesterday, the food, the delightful carvings they were selling at the fair... You bite back a tear. Your shoulder stings. Your heart hurts. You grip your elbow tight.

Sometimes, when sat at the campfire, you'll overhear them talk of their dreams. There's hope in them now. They've got a plan. They're hunting for gemstones, achieving great victories in their retrieval. Morgan tells you of what she overhears, sometimes. You two share much more desperate dreams.

They main reason why you don't want to return to your tent, to follow Brady's advice? It is that your dreams are darker now than they've ever been. Being around Lucina and the others? It helps, usually... but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts beyond all compare.

Your vision blurs and you see the faces from your dreams superimpose upon those of their much happier counterparts. You see twisted brows, gritted teeth, wide and fearful eyes. Your hands shake as you remember the pain and suffering the you from your dreams inflicts upon them: the heat from a spell, the smell of blood, the tingling of Grima's influence on your skin.

It's your mother's face that hurts most to dream of, to remember. She's trying so hard to save you, even though she has no plan, no hope... Even when in your dream you laugh in her face and aim a strike at her one-eyed counterpart.

"Hey, Morgan. Snap out of it."  
The voice startles you. You feel a bowl of bear stew being shoved into your hand. You turn your head around to find red umber eyes scowling at you.

"Se-Selena," you catch yourself.

"Can't have our tactician going to bed hungry," she quips pushing you towards the nearest available log. She grins. "Besides, I didn't get this good at cooking for you to skip meals when I'm on chef duty."

"Th-thanks!" You stammer. She waits with one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. You take a bite.

Immediately, the numb feeling leaves your body. You breathe, deeply, clean air filling your lungs. Selena smiles and relaxes.

"You're welcome." She says.

* * *

You're all welcomed back to Ylisstol to a cheering crowd. Princess Lucina blushes in delight at the attentions of the crowd, her eyes taking in the banners, the flowers, with a joy that warms the heart. You stay at the back of the procession, a grin splitting your cheeks. Odin's clapping you on the back, and Selena is trying hard not to giggle at Laslow's teary eyed delight at seeing Prince Inigo drag young Soleil into a celebratory dance. Ophelia, not wanting to be left out, drags little Morgan into the circle to dance too, prompting Brady to pull out his violin and play a song you never want to forget. Young Severa is laughing at Cynthia's side and Yarne is carrying Noire on his broad shoulders. Owain and Kjelle are preening atop her horse as children jump up and down. Nah and Laurent are wide eyed, gaping at the scene around them. Gerome, two steps behind Lucina, looks the most relaxed you've ever seen anyone.

You're going to miss them, you think.

The Exalt, Chrom, your grandfather... He stands atop the stairs to the palace, in that grand white cape, welcoming back the princess and her shepherds. Your father stands next to him, a warm smile on his face, tears in his eyes. It's been a long month, clearly. Ylisse has gained a new tale to share over campfires. They both couldn't look prouder.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest. You've done it. You've become just as good a tactician as the great Robin.

It was meant to be a routine patrol, merely patrolling the borders of the Halidom, in case of brigands. It was a task the group set to admirably, much to the delight of the citizens in the towns they passed. Then, upon nearing the walls of Regna Ferox, came the ambush.

Turns out Khan Basilio is getting sloppy in his old age. Those seeking to inherit the title of East-Khan are getting out of hand, and one of those groups, upon hearing of the young Shepherds being near their borders, decided to stir some trouble. Their leader, a woman in full knight garb named Raimi, is efficient and brutal. Her archers caused considerable trouble, and her barbarians are quick to riposte to any attack. It's only upon hearing their leader's name that you get an idea how to defeat them with minimal injuries. You read your father's journals after all: you know of the battle at Longfort.

Once defeated by Princess Lucina's lance and young Morgan's tome, Raimi quickly calls off the rest of her troupes. Somehow, word of this impossible victory spread fast. There definitely isn't hide nor hair of any bandits on the way home. You suspect Raimi had hoped for that outcome all along, but you can't be sure. Either way, the Exalt will have to write a long letter to his old ally Basilio, if not visit in person.

You notice, as you wait for the gates to close behind you, that Princess Lucina is at your side now. She grasps your hand, smiles.

"Thank you," she says. Her brand gleams as she catches your eye. She looks proud.

You feel your eyes moisten, and gasp. A chuckle escapes you as you rub at your messy hair. Gosh, you are looking forward to a proper bath.

"You're welcome."  
It's all you can say, really.


	12. Farewell

Chapter 12: Farewell.

* * *

The dreams come once more, and tonight you know that it is the last one.

The you from your dreams is no longer Grima's puppet. You try not to think about what it cost your mother.

You don't really understand much of what is going on. Breaking Grima's hold on you has messed with your mind. It's strange, really, it's as though...

"This way, Morgan," your mother says. You stumble after her, a scarred Lucina maintaining the rear at your back. They both wield a Falchion like it's a part of them. The falchions are the only things keeping them going, you'd suspect, if it weren't for how tightly your mother grasps your hand, how the other girl's blue eye wells up with tears when you look at her without clear recollection.

The landscape is dark, bathed in a never ending purple glow. Every step kicks up a cloud of dust, adding to the smog that clings to the land, obscures lumps that could be trees, houses, just another crater... You don't need to ask to know it can only be a crater. The bones and debris you are stepping over are old, long dry. You can't even tell if the bodies are those of risen or actual victims. Every now and then Lucina nudges one just to be sure. You get the feeling that Risen don't always turn to dust when they die.

The thunder and lighting in the distance seems to be getting closer. You watch with puzzled eyes, as the sky flashes. You feel nothing but puzzled. This doesn't feel right. Your father would know what to do.

"Shit," your mother spits. She grabs your shoulder, signals with a click of her tongue to Lucina. The girl sheathes her sword and pulls out a bow, nocking an arrow, ready to draw tight. You wonder how well she can shoot with just one eye. "Come, Morgan, we must hurry."

"Wha-" You huff, trip and run beside her, trying to see behind you. You can barely hear the other girl following. "Where are we going?"

Your mother is oddly quiet as she pulls you along. You see her face twist as she bites at her lip. She clenches her eyes shut before stopping, opening them once more as you arrive before a large stone arch.

"I am taking you back..." Your mother swallows. "Back to the beginning."

You don't understand. Lucina arrives behind you, scowling.  
"Hey," she says, her voice raspy. "You're going to need this."

You fumble the bag she throws at you. It feels heavy, has metallic feeling chunks shifting as you adjust your grip. You feel scared.  
"What's... What's happening? Where's dad?" His old sword feels heavy on your hip. You wish you were bigger, able to full his cloak better. "He'd know what to do."

Your mother sits you down on a stone, grips your shoulders as she bows down to your level.  
"Listen to me, very carefully Morgan..." Her eyes fill your vision, her brand seems to flicker as the storm pulls closer, the wind jostling her fringe. "I am sending you to find your father. Tell... Tell him I miss him."  
Her hands clasp around yours, cradling the bag with you. She continues. "In here you will find what you need to take you to him. Go into the ruins of time. Find the altar and place the fire emblem upon it. Naga preserve us... Once you... Once you read the words upon that note out loud, you'll... " Her eyes glaze over a moment, as though trying to recall something, something very distant. "You'll be transported through a portal. Whatever you do... Don't turn back. I'm counting on you..."

"Mother...?" You say. Your voice shakes. This feels... This feels final. "What are you asking...?"

"Go back to the beginning," she says, her voice like the steel in her hand. "Find your father. Make sure that he defeats Grima himself." Her forehead finds yours. She exhales a shaky breath. "Know that I love you both."

"He's coming!" Lucina cries, her bow now taught. You look up to see lightning flash right above your heads, outlining the peaks of the ruins as your mother pulls you to your feet.

"Go!" She commands, drawing herself to her full height, turning to face the dark shape now rising opposite the entrance.

"Go!" Lucina shouts, turning towards you with her scarred eye, the point of her arrow pointing up at six, ominous glowing ones.

The sight of them gets you running. Terror fills you as a rumbling voice echoes through the walls. You find yourself in a maze, a labyrinth, you can't tell. You leap over gaps, cling to moving rocks as floors seem to crumble beneath your feet. You find the altar, you think, more by accident than design. You don't have time to observe the stonework, not with the shivers running constantly up your back. You tip the contents of the bag onto the table. A shield, cracked, it is broken into several shards. You can't help yourself, arranging the parts until they form a whole. You vaguely remember sitting on your father's knee, putting similar puzzles back together. You wonder why you can't remember more. The fear in your soul seems to lessen as you align the last piece. Little marbles, gems, seem to be embedded in various parts. Most are cracked, but they seem to emit a small glow, in the half light of the ruined temple. You find a scrap of parchment, squint as you read the smudged lettering.

The words don't make sense, but you find they rarely do with spells. You feel an itch on the back of your hand, see light flash from it. It leaves a white shadow in your vision, like your mother's brand. You squint. There's another light in the room. Your eyes go wide as you see what can only be described as a portal. It's sloppy, bright, pulsing and, you realise too late, coming right at you. You raise up your arms, and it consumes you.

* * *

You wake up.

It's night-time, of course. You peak out of the window and see stars shimmering between the dark shadows of clouds. You sit at your desk, finish your journal. You tie a ribbon around it and put it with your old cloak and Levin sword. Morgan will know where to find them.

You quickly pen another letter. Your quill shakes as you bite back tears, but you are not unhappy. You know, finally, the whole truth. You'd always wondered how you could've travelled back in time, when the others didn't know you, when you were alone without memories in that old ruin... You dab at the wet ink, dry your cheeks on your sleeve. You fold the parchment and seal it. You address it to your father and leave it on your desk in plain sight. You cannot bear to tell him in person. He doesn't deserve another goodbye... but you will leave him answers.

The sands are running out. You go out into the hallway. You turn your head to Morgan's room. It's tempting to stay with her until... Well, it would make sense, but your heart...

You remember your mother's eyes in the dream, the love with which she fought so hard to protect you. Naturally, your feet take you towards princess Lucina's room. You remember once more the words your mother whispered to her younger self before leaving you and baby Morgan.

"Yours will be a happy future." You smile as you creak her door open. She sleeps peacefully with a smile. It will be a couple of years yet before she remembers her past self meeting you in her dreams. You hope, no, you know that she will understand.

"Thank you," you whisper. Your hand leaves the door handle, and then...

You are gone.

* * *

Author's Note: _Don't Worry!  
This is to be continued soon..._


	13. Gone

Chapter 13: Gone

* * *

Princess Lucina awakes to the creaking of her bedroom door. Blearily, she rolls over, blinking as she sees it swinging faintly in the breeze. She is sure she closed it last night. Maybe she imagined it.

She frowns. Something doesn't... She doesn't feel right. She rubs at her eyelids. They feel hot, wet. She feels her lip quivering, but she can't fathom why. She forces herself to still, to take a deep breath in and out. It's what her father taught her to do when she broke a vase as a kid. It's what she learnt in her dreams, how to control her emotions when they were running out of control. It only takes a moment, and the feeling passes.

She still doesn't get why. She slept well, a deep healing sleep, for once. She remembers her dreams, as always. They were cheerful, optimistic... At least as much as they could be, in the world her dreams inhabit. All her friends returned, safe and successful from their quests. She was leading them up the mountain, to their goal. The camped early enough to spot a slice of blue sky above the dark clouds. They had hope.

So why did she wake up feeling sad?

* * *

It's after lunch, and Lucina's heading for the training grounds. She asks her father at breakfast to confirm the date of her group's next expedition. She's feeling the call of the road again, eager to explore the world and serve her people in the field. She knows a few of her friends feel the same, Cynthia practically barrels her over every chance she gets with ideas for their next outing. Chrom seems understanding of her request, but there's a shadow in his gaze as he shakes his head.  
"Come back to me about this later," he says. He's uncharacteristically evasive. "Something has come up."

She doesn't understand what he means. She ruminates it all morning as Muriel catches them up on history and current events. Laurent is sitting attentive at her side as she frowns out the window. Laurent just shakes his head and shrugs when she asks if he knows of a possible reason for her father's evasiveness.

So after lunch with her brother, she decides to let off some steam by hitting things with a stick and then leave the issue be. She trusts her father; he'll explain in due time. She just hopes Frederick is there today. Training against the great knight is always satisfying.

Lucina pauses however, at the gate, a flutter of purple catches her eye. It's Robin, her father's chief tactician, and his daughter Morgan. They're in the training field for mages, parts of broken dummies littering the ground around them. That in and of itself isn't unusual. She often spots the white-haired man overseeing the younger Morgan's magical education, when it isn't his assistant taking his place. Now that she thinks about it, Lucina hasn't seen the older Morgan all day. It's unusual when they are both at home, since Miss Morgan usually likes to check in on her at lunch.

Curious, Lucina walks towards the field, slowly picking up more details about the scene before her. Neither of the mages are casting, tomes thrown to the floor. Robin's knee is lowered, the better for him to embrace his daughter. Morgan seems to be clinging to his neck tight enough for her feet to occasionally lift from the ground. It's only when she notices the anguish on Robin's face, hears the faint wail of Morgan's cries, that Lucina stops, turns away.

She's intruding. They're in pain. She bites her lip and walks back to the training ground entrance. She doesn't understand why they're upset, but she can recognise that kind of pain anywhere. She's seen it far too often in her dreams to be blind to what it means. They need space. They need time.

She doesn't know Robin well enough to be of any use anyway.

In the training grounds, she comes across Kjelle. She's practicing her axe throws. Lucina watches a while, half-heartedly grabbing a stack of spears. Kjelle grunts and shouts. Doesn't seem to notice Lucina is there until she goes to collect her selection of hand axes. Lucina tilts her head as Kjelle's grey eyes meet hers.

"Are you alright, Kjelle?" Lucina asks, genuinely concerned. Kjelle's throws are off centre, her form much less controlled than usual.

"..." Kjelle sighs. She goes to sit on the bench nearby, waving Lucina over. "Did you see Morgan?"

Lucina nods, sitting as directed. Kjelle and Morgan's friendship has grown considerably over the last few years. Lucina supposes it makes sense that Kjelle, upon hearing whatever news has young Morgan so upset, would be affected too. Kjelle's gaze is sharp as she judges Lucina's reaction.

"May I ask, what happened?" Lucina asks quietly. Kjelle's face falls as she realises Lucina hasn't heard the news.

"It's Morgan, Miss Morgan," Kjelle clarifies, referring to her friend's namesake. Hearing her mention the woman who has been guiding her and her Shepherds, Lucina focusses on Kjelle's expression. It's tense. She braces herself. "She's... She's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" Lucina hopes against hope. Kjelle's tone is unmistakeable, but... It doesn't make sense.

"Just gone." Kjelle says sharply. Lucina can't help but recall the Kjelle from her dreams, scowling upon learning the death of her parents. Lucina's heart leaps to her throat. Kjelle softens her glare, droops her shoulders and stares at the ground. "In the night, they say... They say she left a note, but... Robin... Robin said it was pretty final."

A... A note? But... That implied... No, Lucina couldn't accept that. She stands abruptly, scowls at herself and forces herself to breathe in, out, smooth her features. She places her hand on Kjelle's shoulder.  
"Thanks for telling me," she says, before fleeing from the training grounds.

She runs to Miss Morgan's room, finds it empty, and frowns. The bed is cleanly made. The desk is clear. She dashes down the hall, the stairs, going to the office Miss Morgan shares with Robin. It's empty too, though the diary on Robin's desk catches her eye. She recognises it. It's the diary Miss Morgan always writes in, especially on nights where her dreams are bad. They were frequently bad of late. What is the diary doing there? Miss Morgan never travels without it.

Lucina is immobilised at the door. She doesn't know what to do next. She would never read Miss Morgan's diary without her permission. She doesn't see anything that looks like an obvious note. She... She finds she doesn't know who to go and ask.

It's clear to her now, this is what made her father so evasive at breakfast, when she brought up the topic of taking her shepherds on a new trip. Miss Morgan is their tactician. Without her...

Lucina can't go confront her father about it now. He is neck deep in his duties as Exalt for the kingdom. He won't be available until late after dinner. Her mother complained about it at breakfast. She could go find aunt Lissa, ask if she knows anything about it... But Lucina finds she doesn't want to go to the infirmary, not if it might mean... She hugs herself, desperately trying to think. She needs to know. From what Kjelle said...

The person to ask is Robin himself.

* * *

Lucina doesn't have the heart to ask Robin right away. She's seen how distraught he was in the field, with his daughter who was clearly taking it just as hard as he was. Though Miss Morgan is officially only his assistant, you had to be blind to not notice how she seemed to also be a fully-fledged member of their small family. Her interactions with young Morgan have always been so sisterly, the young girl often turning to her for advice one might ask of a mother if she'd had one. No one ever spoke of young Morgan's mother. The girl barely remembers her. Lucina sometimes worried about why.

Now she worries about young Morgan. Her friend is usually so cheerful, and though she couldn't see her face earlier... It's hard to imagine her crestfallen, let alone grieving. Lucina feels like she should be there for her, but... Doesn't know how. She walks around the castle walls, hoping the fresh air will help. She spots Severa in the gardens, leans over to watch. Cordelia's daughter is waving at two others, who Lucina now recognises as Kjelle and Morgan. Her heart feels warmer, seeing Morgan manage a smile, despite the serious slant on her brow. She'll be alright. She's got friends there for her.

It also means that Robin isn't currently with his daughter. Lucina pauses. She doesn't hesitate long. Her strides are long and purposeful as she makes her way back to Robin's office. The sun is starting to set.

The door is closed when she gets there, but it makes little noise as she pushes it open. She finds the Exalt's tactician hunched over at his desk. He's reading Miss Morgan's Diary. Lucina stifles her ire at the sight. It's not her place to judge. For all she knows, Miss Morgan may have left it to him.

He doesn't notice her. He looks emotional, far from the mellow and optimistic man her father describes to her on a regular basis. She never gets to see much of him, the tactician always seemingly alert, keen to find work elsewhere when he notices her in the room. She's not oblivious. Lucina knows he avoids her, though she doesn't know why.

She remembers the Robin from her dreams too, who was distant in a different way, before he vanished after her dream-father's death. It had been hard for her to think of the two as the same person. Dream-Robin had no daughter, never smiled... He'd been prone to migraine and fits of irritation that had done good work of pushing her dream-self well away. This Robin is known for his smiles, sharp wit and helpful hand, from what she's heard and glimpsed. Young Morgan is always singing his praises. Lucina's always been curious.

She finds herself walking into the room without announcing herself. She's too focussed on his expression to remember her manners. She feels her brow creasing in confusion. Her heart clenches. She's not sure why. It... It doesn't feel right to see Robin like this.

Robin looks so alone.

He starts upon finally seeing her. His hand reaches for his chest and he stares at her with wide eyes. He looks old. He looks young. He looks at her as though... As though he sees someone else.

"My apologies!" Lucina lets out, bowing stiffly. She keeps her head low, hoping that the heat of embarrassment on her face dissipates quickly. "I... I, uhm..."

The tactician lets out a sigh, nearly a chuckle. When Lucina lifts her head again, he seems to regain some of his composure, though his gaze is still unbearably sad.  
"Princess Lucina," he says, one hand closing the diary, the other smoothing down his robes. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"I heard that... Miss Morgan." Lucina says, hesitantly. "I... Wondered if you could tell me what happened?"

A flash of pain across Robin's face makes Lucina wish she didn't ask, but he nods nonetheless.  
"I understand." He waves his hand at the chair nearby, inviting her to sit. "You two were close, and word travels fast in this palace, even if we're still..." He pushes his knuckles against his teeth, rephrases. "The details still need confirmed."

Lucina sits gingerly, worried. She waits for him to continue. When he stays quiet, she finds herself asking again. "What... What happened?"

"... The same thing that happened to my wife." He says simply. He looks past her, through the window as the sky turns lavender. He smiles softly. "I'd just returned from my... enforced absence. She left me a note, though it didn't make sense to me. It took months for it to sink in... If Morgan, older Morgan, hadn't been there, I..."

"They fought in the war together, you see..." Robin continues, after a short pause. His gaze is directed at the hands clasped in his lap. "The place they came from, it took a toll on them. Twelve years ago, my wife had to return to it. And now... Morgan has returned to it too."

Lucina puzzles over his phrasing. Does this mean that Miss Morgan is still alive, simply travelling? Why is everyone acting like she's died? She doesn't understand.

"I don't... What do you mean?" She asks. She scowls. Is it something to do with Miss Morgan's dreams? Lucina knows that though they were similar in nature to hers, they differed from those of her and her friends. But that doesn't make sense! They're just dreams!

Robin's face is studiously blank as he looks at her.  
"Princess Lucina... The place they return to, it doesn't exist anymore." He stands, picking up the diary. A paper flutters down, loose. "If you'll excuse me."

The tactician leaves the study with quick strides. Lucina understands why, grief is a difficult emotion to hide. Her hands shake as she stands, catches the loose sheet. The penmanship is instantly recognisable. Miss Morgan...

"_Father,_

_The day has come. I'm sorry, I hoped it would be longer before it was time to leave. I love you, Father, but the goddess spoke to me, the same way she spoke to Mother. I must go, to set things right. I'm leaving my Diary to young Morgan, but I have no doubt the scamp will be happy to share it with you. Be prepared. It is not easy reading, but I'm glad... I finally have all my memories back._

_Mother loved you so much, Father. She never wanted to lose you._

_I'll always be by your side,  
Morgan._"

The paper throws up more questions than it explains. Lucina doesn't know what to make of any of it.

The only thing she does know is that feeling from that morning is back. The hotness in her eyes takes her by surprise, but she doesn't resist it this time. She puts the paper down and turns to the window.

She remembers that night, so many years ago now. She was sat in this chair, crying then too.  
Only this time Miss Morgan isn't there to set things right. 


	14. History

Chapter 14: History

* * *

The dreams take an interesting twist.

Lucina sits by the fire, sharing the stew Selena made with Yarne, Laurent and Nah as the rest of her Shepherds sleep. Soleil and Ophelia are on first watch, though Lucina suspects they're just taking the opportunity to stargaze. She doesn't begrudge them their fun; no one expects any trouble. They've cleared the western border of bandits and should be reaching to the port tomorrow to catch their boat to Valm. Now's the time to relax.

As often during these trips, the conversation veers to that of the dream world they share.

"Seriously?" Yarne asks, looking startled. "You arrived before the Ylissean shepherds were even formed?!"

"That is what I said, yes." Laurent replies calmly, raising a brow at the Taguel's reaction. Unlike the skittish incarnation of Yarne in their dreams, it is rare to see this Yarne phased by much. It's down to his numerous siblings, Lucina supposes. Visiting lady Panne's home is always chaotic.

"You and me both arrived not long after Validar's coronation, didn't we?" Nah pipes up, pointing her spoon at Yarne. Lucina smiles. The young Manakete is quick of wit and a surprisingly fast eater for her small size.

Yarne nods.  
"How about you, Lucina? When did dream-you arrive?" The Taguel's eyes are sharp as he looks at her. She laughs a little. His expression is far too serious for the lightness of his tone.

It's still surreal to think that their dream selves travelled through time. Lucina is just glad that she gets to dream of a world full of actual colours now.

"I think I can answer that," Laurent interrupts. He takes a sip of his tea. "Tell me if I'm wrong, Lucina, but..."

Lucina tilts her head, puzzled by Laurent's seeming confidence. The dream-jump only happened last two nights back. There hasn't really been a chance for her to speak of her perspective between fighting bandits and marching. She hums questioningly, around a bite of stew. She's curious about what Laurent will say.

"You arrived the same day your father first met Robin, am I correct? Just in time to save your aunt Lissa from some Risen."

Lucina's breath catches in her throat. How... How does he know about aunt Lissa? When his dream-self arrived in a time before that? She didn't even notice Robin in her first dream, though the one following did offer her a glimpse of the Plegian tactician with Frederick breathing down his neck.

"What...?" She croaks, trying not to choke on her food. Laurent eyes her smugly through his lenses.

"Holy Carrots, he's right!" Yarne gasps, his own stew spilling over in his excitement to lean closer.

"How?" Nah asks, frowning. "That... Doesn't make sense. You haven't told him, have you Lucina?"

Lucina mutely shakes her head, her eyes fixed on Laurent's face. His smirk fades away. He contemplates the embers of the fire, a faint frown on his brow.

Another sip of his tea, he puts down the cup and glances around. Seemingly satisfied that they are alone, he sighs and rubs his eyes. There's a hollow laugh that leaves his throat.  
"I hoped to prove my Hypothesis wrong."

"What do you mean, Laurent?" Lucina says, finally finding her voice. She can't shake the memory of her dream, of finding aunt Lissa, a child, facing a Risen with such terror in her eyes that it was clear it was the first time she'd seen one. Her dream self was both grateful for and frustrated by the mask she'd put on before the jump. It did prevent some awkward questions, but also made the fight a lot harder than it needed to be. "Please, explain."

Laurent stares into the fire a moment more as he finds his words.  
"We all saw you, in our dreams, put on that mask, and well..." He pulls a book from the pocket of his cape, flitting it open to the page he'd marked. "It struck me, when I woke up, that it seemed familiar."

Lucina takes the book, looks at the page. There was no imagery, but Laurent had helpfully outlined a section of text in pencil.

_The Warrior Marth, first encountered by the exalt on the same day he met the great tactician Robin, was a great help in the War efforts. Appearing alongside the first Risen (undead monsters), the then masked fighter was quick to protect the young lady Lissa. Later on..._

Lucina frowns, turning to look at the cover of the book.  
_Recent history of Ylisse: the Plegian and Valmese wars._

"I don't understand?" Lucina feels Nah take the book from her hands. Laurent sighs.

"My Hypothesis," Laurent says, his words slow but sure, "is that our dream counterparts travelled back in time to the world we live in now."

"Woah, seriously?" Yarne's grin is wide as he looks over Nah's shoulder at the book. He laughs. "Lucina! You're in the history books already!"

Lucina's heart catches in her throat. It can't be. She doesn't want to believe it. Laurent seems so sure, but she thinks of her brother, of Severa and Owain. In her dreams, they travel back in time too, but unlike all the others, they don't share the same dream world. And how does this explain young Morgan, who just yesterday mentioned having similar dreams to theirs? It doesn't... It can't tally.  
"It's just a hypothesis," she says, not sure what to believe.

Lucina leaves the fire shortly after, her appetite gone. That night, it's her waking thoughts that keep her up, not her fears of the dream world.

* * *

The trade mission to Valm and Rosanne is a success. Noire is delighted. She and Gerome return with Lucina's shepherds to the palace to stay for a while. A cultural exchange you could say: Inigo and Owain are in exchange staying with Duke Virion for the month, helping to strengthen the ties between the two nations further. Inigo's dancing wows normally wary crowds, and Tharja is sure that seeing Owain's smith work will be of great value to the local metal workers.

It's nice having her foreign friends around off mission.

Noire and her spend many hours with Sumia, enjoying the gardens, learning about plants that Noire doesn't have the luxury of finding back home. Robin is occasionally dragged over, to discuss the drought in Plegia that he and Miss Morgan resolved by combining magic and gardening techniques. Young Morgan joins in, making more of a mess than anything. She keeps digging pits, much to Noire's bewilderment. Lucina finds it endearing, even if she'd rather she let the flowers grow.

Gerome, when not training with Frederick, takes to meetings with tailors and embroiderers. It's a passion he often speaks of in his letters. Lucina finds that though she herself has little patience for needle and thread, she enjoys sitting with him in the reading room, watching his hands weave around the material, a peaceful expression on his brow. If she's a little slow with her own reading, it can't be helped. Gerome is pleasingly distracting. When his fingers grow tired, he rests his hand on hers. She'll rest her head on his shoulder. It's comforting. It's new. She feels butterflies dancing under her skin and wonders if he feels them too.

It's the third time it happens when Sully pops her head into the reading room, looking left and right, calling for Kjelle. The knight stops upon seeing them, and grins.  
"Ah, you two are so cute," Sully crows, before bowing back out, a finger on her lips. "Don't worry, I won't tell your dad."

It never felt awkward before. Now it does. Gerome snatches his hand away, and Lucina's face feels as though it is on fire.

She returns her gaze to the history book in her hands.

It feels weird reading through the recent history of the Ylissean continent, wondering if she and her friends are among the characters featured... But at least she doesn't have to worry about Sully making that weirder.

* * *

Several months pass since Laurent first made his hypothesis.

Lucina's dream counterpart travels to Regna Ferox, where she tests a Chrom too young, too smooth, and finds that she misses her father's limp, his wary pessimism, his focus. 

The dream has her waking up with her heart in her throat. It doesn't take her long to reach the history book on her bedside table. A quick flick of the switch on her oil lamp, and she can find the bookmarked passage. It's too real to ignore. There are too many similarities for it to be coincidence. She'd hoped that Laurent's hypothesis would be proved wrong, that somehow their shared dreamworld merely fed off his keen study of the history books...

She slaps the book back onto the bedside table with a groan. Throwing herself back into her pillows, she stares at the ceiling, her mind made up. She needs to ask someone who was there.

Lucina asks her father, the exalt, at breakfast. Upon hearing her interest in the arena at Regna Ferox, he laughs. It's a good laugh, that makes her feel hopeful for some answers that make sense.  
"Oh Regna Ferox is great! I'm sure we can get Basilio to organise a tournament in the Arena for you and your Shepherds if you want. I recommend it. The Feroxi make for a great crowd."

It's not quite what she hopes to hear, but she takes it. Her friends are keen to visit.

The journey there is pleasant and easy. Lucina is greeted at the border by Raimi who shakes her hand with a laugh, their previous encounter seemingly part of Feroxi banter. Raimi's forces escort the young Shepherds to the Feroxi capital, where Khans Basilio and Flavia welcome them warmly and treat them all with many embarrassing tales about their parents, much to the accompanying Exalt Chrom's despair.

On the day of the tournament, Lucina finds herself distracted. The arena is altogether too familiar, too true to what her dreams remember.

Laurent's theory is gaining strength now. It's no longer a notion she dismisses. Not when she feels the same thunder strike through her when she spies Robin at the side lines. Not when that moment of distraction lands her on her back the same way, and the sand grits at her elbows. As Soleil crows above her in victory, she skips to the same hiding spot as in the dream and finds that too identical.

Still, Lucina thinks, there's got to be more to it.

She re-joins her parents for the victory feast. Olivia delights in showing her daughter her favourite spots from when she lived there. Lucina didn't realise, didn't know. Her worries fade as she enjoys the views, the family time. Inigo and Olivia dance, Chrom and her share her first taste of wine.

Lucina's experience of the Regna Ferox Arena becomes something special. It's a memory she'll treasure, not some footnote of a scheme in a dreamworld that still doesn't feel real, even if evidence suggests it once was.

Laurent's hypothesis is probably correct, she decides. So what? She glances at the history book poking out of her travel back as she turns over in her bedding. Several bookmarks poke out from its pages, moments in the past where the "masked Marth" made some notable contribution to events. Lucina smiles. Well, at least know when she goes to sleep, she'll have an idea of what to expect...


	15. An Escape

Chapter 15: An escape.

* * *

Lucina begins to suspect that something is up. She can't quite put her finger on it. It's a shiver in her spine as she walks into the courtyard. It's in the itching of her ears as she's sat in the library. It's in the glances her friends send her when they think she's not looking.

She tries not to let it bother her. If it were anything important, someone would speak up, surely...

Still, Lucina can't help the growing feeling of frustration. She's noticing the instances more. She's starting to recognise a pattern.

Young Morgan is particularly conspicuous. The young girl is constantly appearing in her periphery, watching, rarely approaching unless she's found some unrelated excuse. There she is today, Lucina thinks, frowning up at the balcony above the training yard. If the behaviour hadn't been so conspicuous, Lucina would have thought the girl just enjoyed watching her fall off a horse.

Lucina huffs, having climbed back onto the back of her father's steed, listening to Stahl's latest recommendations. She wishes it was Cordelia teaching her. The Pegasus knight is much better at framing things in a way that Lucina understands. She goes to jump the fence again. This time the horse complies, only Lucina decides to up the ante. With a click and swerve of her thighs, she prompts the horse to try a much more ambitious trick.

There's a yell, as Stahl realises what's happening. She feels the lift following the heavy thunk of hooves hitting the ground. The horse whinnies loudly, and for a terrifying second Lucina fears that they won't make the jump. This isn't a Pegasus. People die from horse riding accidents. She remembers that one particularly graphic story Sully likes to tell as a cautionary tale...

Hooves clatter on stone, there's a shrill cry. Gravity reasserts itself and Lucina sits tall in her saddle as she confronts a rather surprised Morgan.

"Enjoying the show?" Lucina asks. Her heart is in her throat, but her voice comes out smooth and calm. Thank goodness for Miriam's elocution classes.

"Oh my word, Lucina, that's so cool!" Morgan gushes, once she regains her composure. She reaches for the horse, stroking its nose as she peaks back down to the grounds below. "That jump was at least ten feet! Wait until I tell my dad..."

Lucina glances back down to the yard. Stahl seems to be yelling himself hoarse with worry. Sheepish, Lucina dismounts while keeping hold of the horse's reins. She'd hiding, and she knows it. It's going to take some figuring out to get the horse back to the ground, she knows.

"Morgan, why are you watching me all the time?" Lucina asks. There's no point beating around the bush.

Morgan's smile freezes into place, clearly forced as she clears her throat.  
"Me? Watching you all the time? What are you on about Lucina?"

It's an obvious lie. Lucina clenches her teeth and puts a hand to her hip. She tilts her head and frowns in the way that usually gets young Morgan to spill the beans. It's always worked before.

Morgan steps back, clearly cowed.  
"Lo-look, it's nothing. I ca-ca-can't, I cannot say, really. Don't worry about it..." The young mage waves her hands around enthusiastically, chuckling a little. She's still backing away as though Lucina's away to draw a sword on her. Lucina can't say that it wouldn't be tempting if she did have her sword. "Oh, hey, look what time it is! I'd better run..."

"Morgan, get back here!" Lucina calls out, but it's too late. She can't chase after Morgan while holding the reins to her father's horse. She won't need to, she thinks... This section of the balcony is a dead end. The only way down is behind her...

Only Morgan never was one to use the stairs if an alternative presented itself.

"Morgan!" Lucina screams, seeing the teenager throw herself over the balcony wall.

Morgan seems unphased, pulling a tome from her cloak and saying simple words. Winds whip up a cloud of sand from the yard, buffeting her landing. The girl lands like a cat and runs, leaving behind a dishevelled Stahl and groaning Lucina. That girl will be the death of her.

* * *

Lucina's penance for giving Stahl the fright of his life is to head to the smiths and order new horseshoes for the stables. It's not something she's ever done before, but she's visited the smithy plenty. It's where her cousin Owain spends most of his time these days, when Lissa isn't dragging him to tea with Maribelle or getting his help on some prank she was determined to pull.

It makes Lucina a bit melancholy, when she thinks about it. Most of her friend circle are starting to find vocations that they are keen to excel in. Gerome has his sewing, Noire her plants, and Owain has his metal work. Even her brother Inigo has his dancing career all planned out. When she thinks about it, there are not many she can think of who don't seem to have some path they are enthusiastic to follow. Kjelle, perhaps? Soleil and Ophelia are certainly keen to not think on the future more than they need to... As for Lucina herself.

She stops and sighs, looking around the carriages littering the yard outside the Ylisstol Smithy. She sees the one reserved for royal outings, for when the Exalt is to tour the land and rain his blessings upon his people. She remembers, not without some pain, dreaming of seeing her Aunt Emmeryn in one such carriage. Dream-Lucina had been unable to save the then Exalt, even with prior knowledge of events. Those failings are not her own, Lucina knows, but it doesn't mean that she is any more prepared for the burden of leadership than her father was then.

Chrom's done a good job, despite it all. His reign knows a peace that did not exist under Emmeryn, despite her relentless efforts, and that certainly didn't exist under their father. Lucina knows, from her dreams, just how fragile peace can be. She doesn't have a brilliant tactician behind her, she doesn't even know if she'll find someone as supportive of her as her mother is to Chrom... That brings its own twisted knot of feelings to her gut. The malaise helps drive her thoughts away from the weight of the crown to Gerome's sudden distance on his latest visit. It's certainly not a thought she wants to dwell on.

She lengthens her strides and reaches the smithy doors in no time. She's away to enter when she notices a flutter of yellow from the corner of the building. Curious, she pauses, then circles around to find Odin Dark.

The mage from Nohr has certainly been a colourful addition to the castle's occupants. Unlike his compatriots, he doesn't seem to seamlessly slot into the barracks, instead preferring to spin epic tales to any who would listen and constantly pestering his friends into having some fun that doesn't involve going shopping. Lucina isn't entirely sure why the older Morgan brought them to Chrom's court, nor why her father was so keen for them to stay, but Lucina is certainly glad they did. For all the strangeness of the stories Odin tells, the sharpness of Selena's tongue and gaze, and Laslow's relentless flirting, there is a familiarity to them that really makes Lucina feel at home.

Lucina does not hesitate to approach Odin, though she makes no effort to distract him. It's rare to see him observing something with such rapt attention. His hands rest peacefully on the rim of the Smithy's window, his whole body caught mid motion, peering at the works happening inside. He doesn't even hear her approach, even though the gravel underfoot is bound to give her away.

Curious, she peers around the shutter to see inside as well. The hiss of fire, clanging of metal, the sounds are all familiar. She sees Owain in his metalworking apron, a grin splitting his face in two as he works his tools. A blade is glowing under his workmanship. It looks like magic, even though she knows it's not. Owain's talked her through the whole process more times than she cares to count.

"Look at that focus, that talent!" Odin whispers. One of his hands covers his mouth as tears form at the corner of his eyes. "That young man has a gift! Oh, to see Lissa's son grow into such a hard-working-craftsmen..."

He seems at a loss for words. Lucina glances back at Owain, who is clearly still unaware that he has an audience.

"Oh, I don't know." She quips, smirking as she spies Owain doing one of his completely unnecessary flourishes. Crossing her arms, she adds, just as Owain fumbles and nearly drops his project on the floor. "My cousin is still the same colourful character as always!"

Lucina nearly jumps out of her skin at Odin's sudden loud cry... But clearly not as much as he does. The Nohrian mage splutters and points, panting heavily with one hand against his heart.  
"By the Darkness above, Princess Lucina! Where from did you appear with such cat-like tread? I did not realise you were at my side. Have the gods blessed you with the gift of teleportation?!"

"Ah..." It takes her a moment to translate his colourful phrasing, but the meaning is plenty clear. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you, Odin."

"No worries, Lucina," Odin grins, flourishing his hand towards the front of the Smithy. Owain has noticed them and is waving at them to come in. "Let us pay your cousin a visit together..."

It's only after Lucina leaves, supplied with a sheet confirming the order, that she realises two things.

One: even an accomplished Mage and story-teller such as Odin is envious of others having a vocation. She need not worry so hard about her path in life.

And Two: something about the way Odin Dark says her name niggles at her. It feels familiar, in a way that she doesn't associate with him.

Oh well, it will come to her in time.

* * *

That night, she dreams that she removes the mask for a time. Her parents are getting married. There are no battles to fight for now. She can rest.

She finds a flower farm to help around. The sharpness of her blade is surprisingly suited to cutting stems. It feels like another life that she can lose herself in, although dream-Lucina knows it is only for a short time. War will come again, and when it does, she needs to be ready to return to her father's side.

When Lucina awakes, it is dark. Moonlight peers through her curtains as she gets a drink of water. A crazy thought occurs to her, as it usually does in these midnight hours. Older Morgan is on her mind, and she recalls the companionship she'd shared with the three Nohrians. They'd been war comrades. What if...

No, it's a silly thought she thinks. Still, her mind can't shake the possibility...

It would certainly explain why Owain, Severa and Inigo don't have dreams of fighting in their parents' war.

Lucina leans at her window, feels the cool air against her face. Something clicks into place. Her heart feels lighter. The next day, she's not so bothered by the glances anymore.


	16. Making Peace

Author's note:  
Oh wow, 2020, what are you even...? Who set the world on fire?

So I've spent the last three months juggling moving flat and starting a new job - plenty distracting, not helped by incidental one shots.  
In the meantime I've scrapped about three versions of this chapter, and wrote the entirety of what is here this week. One of the advantages of social life being cancelled I guess. To be honest it's been good to get some distance from this story and come back with a fresh direction. Should be at least three or four more chapters before I can bring this to its conclusion.

Thank you for you patience, and enjoy the read! Definitely won't be as long before the next chapter. Heart.

* * *

Chapter 16: **Making Peace**

* * *

Lucina dreams once more of war. Her dream self meets a young Tharja, all eyes for Robin, keen to hex anyone in her way. Henry, a face she'd encountered once before, becomes part of Chrom's shepherds. They look so young, so tortured, it takes Lucina some work to recognize Noire's luxuriant Mother, and Libra's relaxed partner from Plegia...

It's a big surprise to Lucina when her dream self lets slip that she is Chrom's daughter. Two years enjoying the relative peace before the Valmese war made her sloppy. Still, it's nice, she feels lighter. When Princess Lucina awakes that morning it's with tears of joy in her eyes. If Chrom questions why she feels the need to give him an extra-long hug at breakfast, he does not say.

She's taken to watching her father do his religious work in her free time. He suggests it when she turns eighteen, and she finds she quite enjoys sitting in the large cathedral as he delivers sermons alongside the Halidom's most senior priests.

It's peaceful there. It smells of incense and flowers, candle wax and ink on parchment. The stained-glass windows glow, sunlight casting the intricately painted scenes across the floor, onto the walls... She hears hymns dedicated to Naga and tales of her ancestor Marth. It feels right.

If she sometimes chooses to spend her free time here even when its empty, who's going to judge?

* * *

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Hm?" Lucina snaps back awake. She takes in the empty library, the dusty tomes on the desk around her. Robin closes the book that was open in front of her. His eyes, brown she notices, are looking at her more directly than she remembers ever noticing.

"My apologies," she mumbles, brushing back her hair as she feels her ears burn. "It seems I was away to fall asleep."

Robin chuckles. "You always speak more proper when you are tired." His words seem to catch him by surprise, and he stands straighter. "I mean..." He coughs awkwardly, cradling the book he was carrying in his other hand. "There are better places to take a nap."

He doesn't give her time to respond, turning on his heel and leaving promptly. As he reaches the door, he waves with a quip. "If you need more time for that essay, just say the word!"

This kind of dynamic is a stark contrast to the one she shares with him in her dreams. Where in the waking world Lucina is working with her father's tactician on further advancing her knowledge of the Halidom's inner workings and political machinery, business-like conversations sometimes stuttering into awkward exchanges like this one, in the dream world... Well...

Lucina shakes her head and lets out a small laugh. Dream-Lucina is so wary of the Plegian Tactician. Lucina understands the distrust, knows that it stems from a childhood watching her father's ostensibly best friend brood and snap at the slightest interruption, that it takes root in her recognition of the six-eyed sigil on his robes that match those of Grima's Risen-summoning mages. Her dream-self finds that Dream-Robin's voice is similar to Grima's, much to her dislike... In her dreams she's always on edge around him, eager to find fault, paranoid that he might not grasp the importance of her mission. It's hard, in her dreams, to trust in his tactics, his schemes, even when he proves himself time and again. Dream Lucina has had to come up with plans by herself for longer than she cares to remember. That was the burden of being exalt before her time, in a world tumbling into apocalypse.

Only waking Lucina isn't that Lucina. She has the luxury of always travelling with a masterful tactician. young Morgan takes over Miss Morgan's mantel, with Robin's blessing. Though the outings of her Shepherds are rarer now that her friends are branching off into varying careers of their own choosing, they still make time for them. Their trips across land and sea are something she cherishes, and her father knows better than to suggest she puts an end to them...

In fact, he's the reason she's feeling so tired. She stayed up late at Chrom's request to tell him all about her latest trip. She smiles, stands, and tidies away the books, making sure to take her notes with her as she leaves. It's still sunny out, maybe she could take a short nap in the courtyard, under her favourite tree? She chuckles remembering Robin's gentle rebuke. She knows the story of how her father met his tactician well.

* * *

She awakes this time to a gentle nudging. The warmth of the sun has dwindled, the leaves rustling above her head. She sits up feeling well rested, and notices who nudged her. Gerome smiles down at her, his face calm, his hair slicked back as always now.  
"Ah, thank you Gerome," she says, rubbing the last of the sleep out of her eyes. She feels odd, and then realises why... She'd been dreaming...

It wasn't unusual, for her dreams to intrude on a nap, sometimes, but it was rare. Usually just a snippet, a taste of what was to come later that night...

"You are welcome, Lucina," Gerome says simply. He has one of his numerous embroidery projects in hand. He must have been sat near her for a while. "Morgan was looking for you."

"Was she? Where is Morgan?" Lucina stands, brushing down her tunic, wondering what her friend might need her for. It can't have been urgent if Gerome let her rest on after finding her.

"She's in her room. Said to send you there when you are free." He nods at her vacated spot. "You looked like you needed the rest. Brady did say you took quite the hit in the last battle."

Her hand reaches for her side. Brady's good at healing, even if now he's focussing on his violin skills. She forgot about that injury. It certainly offers another explanation for her tiredness. Lucina gives a small chuckle.

It's nice that Gerome isn't keeping his distance from her anymore. It's poetic, in a way – her dream was about hearing finally of dream-Gerome's whereabouts. But there's still this distance, she feels, between her and this unmasked Gerome who is content to sit and sew.

It's silly, Lucina thinks, to miss his taciturn, mono-syllabic and masked counterpart. That Gerome wasn't what you would call happy, but... She remembers him as her shadow, soothing and protective despite his grim mannerisms. He always seemed to be on the same wavelength as her dream self, his every thought and emotion somehow obvious to her where to others he was a blank canvas.

Yet this Gerome, with his open face and easy smile, is a complete mystery to Lucina.

"I had better not keep Morgan waiting," she says, with a short bow. He nods, returns to his work.

Lucina is several steps away when he adds: "You forgot your notes!"

He laughs as, flustered, she sprints back for them.

* * *

When Lucina chaps at the door to Morgan's room, she's answered by what sounds like a sob...  
"Dad, I swear, if that's you...!" The voice is gruff, broken. Morgan is clearly upset. Lucina can't remember Morgan being truly upset beyond when Miss Morgan left and that one time when Lucina's trip to Valm was cut short.

"Morgan, it's me, Lucina." Lucina says. She keeps her voice even, not wanting her worry to come through. "If this is a bad time..."

The door creaks open, revealing a tear-stricken Morgan. The girl's hair is wilder than usual, her eyes red, her mouth in a downwards curve that looks foreign on her face. Lucina's heart pangs.

"I..." Morgan doesn't get very far before she throws her arms around Lucina's torso. She speaks words that are lost, muffled by more sobs and Lucina's jacket. Lucina frowns. Putting an arm around the girl, she pushes into her room and shuts the door. No one harms one of her friends. She's going to get to the bottom of this.

"Hey," the princess says, pulling Morgan down to sit on the bed with her. "It'll be alright. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

The girl's tears soften, a small hiccup rattling her frame as she relaxes into the hug. Lucina feels her shake her head.  
"It's... It's not anything you can change..." There's a slight hesitation. A sniff. "It's just hard to process, and I..."

Lucina waits for Morgan to elaborate, but no further words come. Morgan's grip on Lucina's tunic tightens, and the Princess frowns.

"Is it something your father Robin did?" she asks, remembering Morgan's angry tone when she knocked. Lucina's mind jumps to the other possibility, considering Morgan's reticence to see her father. "Did something happen with Kjelle?"

"What? No!" Morgan's face finally emerges, beat red with embarrassment at hearing Lucina bring up her girlfriend. "Kjelle and I are fine... I... Didn't even realize you'd noticed..." She ends in a whisper; mortification slowly replaces grief on her features.

"Then what is it?" Lucina asks, tilting her head. She reaches up to smooth back some of Morgan's hair.

Morgan crosses her arms, fully sitting back so she can bring her legs up. She glares across the room at the diary on her desk. Lucina recognises it. Wonders...

"It's a dumb dream thing..." Morgan says petulantly. "You know how I'm ahead of everyone in our shared dream timeline?"

Lucina nods. As the disparity in continuity between the groups' dreams became obvious, most of Lucina's shepherds had agreed to not share any important details with anyone they knew were behind them. It made things a little awkward for Lucina, seeing how she was further behind most of them by a good two years, but she respected it. No one wants to hear second-hand about the time they got caught in one of aunt Lissa's traps before they reached it in the dream. It'd spoil the fun, as Brady had so aptly put it.

"Well..." Morgan says, hesitantly. Her lips move around as she thinks how to phrase it. "I found out something. Something I... Wasn't too happy about."

"Was... Was that why you asked for me?" Lucina asks, feeling her stomach drop. It had to be important if Morgan was choosing to speak of her dream's contents with her... Beyond the usual 'it sucked today' or idle comment about delicious food.

"No silly," Morgan shakes her head, the beginnings of her normally perpetual smile making a comeback. "It was about my dad. I'm annoyed about it, because I should have seen it coming, and when I tried to talk to him about it, he took it the wrong way. Ugh."

Morgan flails dramatically onto her back, her long sleeves floating down after her.  
"I asked you here because you actually listen, even if you don't always seem to pick up on the subtext," here Morgan gives her some side-eye. Clearly Lucina's comment about Kjelle has her reassessing that last notion. Lucina feels her cheeks flush.

"Don't worry, I won't spoil any future dreams for you." Morgan continues, staring at the ceiling with a carefully neutral expression. Lucina still manages to detect some sadness in it. Morgan's brown eyes turn to hers, her brows furrowing into a pleading expression. "I just... I just want to hang out with you for a bit, if that's okay?"

Lucina hesitates, still unsure of what the issue is, but smiles.  
"Of course." She nods and places her hand Morgan's shoulder. "Shall we read together for a while?"

And just like that, Morgan's smile is beaming once more.


	17. Foreign Matters

**Chapter 17:** Foreign Matters

* * *

A change comes over Morgan over the next few weeks. Lucina's certain most people are only noticing the sudden growth spurt. Morgan retires her robes emulating her father's for a subtler blue coat. She takes to wearing gloves even when not training, the leather stretching over the back of her hands as she turns the page of her latest read. The fire in her eyes is replaced with an electric spark, her wit razor-sharp as she schools Inigo once more in the rules of chess. Sat watching next to Kjelle, Lucina wonders if Kjelle's noticed too: Morgan no longer feels like the youngest of their group.

"Are you okay Lucina?" Kjelle nudges her. She twirls her drink thoughtfully, glancing at Lucina's face between watching Morgan move pawns across the board. "You seem... distracted."

"I..." Lucina considers deflecting, but she knows the glint in Kjelle's eyes too well. Kjelle has these moments where she can read Lucina like a book. Lucina sighs. "Morgan, she seems different, does she not?"

Kjelle's eyebrows lift in surprise before she turns back to the game in play. Inigo is making some grand declaration as he attempts to distract Morgan from his intended play. Morgan is very clearly not fooled. Kjelle chuckles.

"Ah, you've noticed it too?" she says. "She's more herself than she's ever been, I reckon. It's... nice."

Nice, huh? Lucina watches as Morgan leans forward, responding to Inigo's feint with one of her own as she moves her queen. "Check mate!" She finishes, much to Inigo's bewilderment. She laughs freely as he puzzles over his sudden change in fortune. It is nice.

It is as Morgan comes to swap seats with Lucina that Lucina figures it out. She is grinning, grabbing Kjelle's broad shoulders as she begs Lucina to teach Inigo how to play properly for Naga's sake. Morgan is no longer aspiring to be like her dad. The confidence is refreshing, and for the first time since Miss Morgan's departure, Lucina is strongly reminded of the older Morgan when looking at Robin's daughter. Lucina did not realise how much she missed older Morgan until younger Morgan seemed to embody her.

The resemblance is astounding, really.

"Of course," Lucina nods, finally relaxing properly as she stands and marches towards her brother. Inigo groans as he sets up the board. "Let us do our best."

* * *

Under Robin's tutelage, Lucina finds she has a rapidly growing interest in the workings of the Ylissean state and international relations. The complexities of the Valmese continent, with their colourful characters and customs, are a welcome counterpart to the confused but pernickety priests and magistrates answering to her father. Especially welcome when in her dreams, they just deposed the would-be Valmese emperor Walhart. It makes her delight in her correspondence with Say'ri, Virion and Ivy, the current elected head of the remodelled Valmese state. For similar reasons, she enjoys learning about Plegia, though she knows from the history books that she's not seen the end of Plegia in her dreams yet.

Regna Ferox feels like family: the boisterous cousin always ready to cause trouble.

"They're the ones to watch," Robin says, one afternoon as they study her correspondence by the flower beds. It is the height of spring, and Lucina has petitioned for weeks to drag him out of his stuffy study for once. She is glad he has finally agreed. The daisies and lilies are beautiful to look at, and it seems to be drawing Robin out of the funk he has been in for months now. He twirls the stem of the one flower he could not help but pick as he points lower down on the letter from Khan Flavia. "Basilio is feeling his age, and Flavia's got plenty of competition from younger candidates for Khanship now. She's trying to put a positive spin on it, but you can sense her worry. Look, in that phrasing there, see?"

"The 'like dogs chomping at the bit' segment?" Lucina reads out. "It certainly indicates that she doesn't see herself staying Khan for much longer, but I don't understand how that indicates a possible threat to peace on our continent?"

"Think about it, Lucina. You know how the Feroxi think, understand their history..." Robin's got that small smirk on his face as he raises a brow at her. He turns the daisy to face her. "What do you reckon it means?"

There's a fondness in Lucina's breast as she takes on Robin's challenge. Sitting back, a gentle breeze rustles the hair in her ponytail as she thinks it through. She thinks back to Raimi challenging her and her Shepherds as they neared the Feroxi borders. She remembers the Arena, both from her dreams and from her father taking her there to take part in the yearly tournaments. She remembers Basilio in her dreams, keen to personally fight Walhart, despite her dream counterpart's warnings. The Feroxi people are proud, brave, and energetic to the very end, even in the face of death. She frowns as understanding clicks into place.

"I... Whoever becomes next Khan will have strong opposition hindering their rule. They will want a swift means to show their strength and distract their opponents. The Feroxi love battle, and the younger candidates... They're less likely to remember the pain from Walhart's conquests, the fear, and they certainly don't care for the lessons of the Plegian and Ylissean wars." Lucina's frown deepens. "The next Khan will be tempted to turn to war, conquest, to secure his position for the long haul and divert the attention of his competitors to warfare."

"Exactly." Robin nods, clapping his hands together. "Now, as land neighbours to Regna Ferox, Plegia and Ylisse are the most likely targets for such a gambit. Obviously, we don't want to let that happen, so..."

"So... It's our job to prevent that." Lucina picks up the daisy from in front of Robin, looking into its bright face, smelling its sweet scent. She sighs. Turns out, Peace is hard work to maintain. She ponders a moment, her gaze travelling across the yard as she puzzles it out. Her tutor waits patiently, his white hair swaying in the breeze. He looks comfortable, unworried. "Our best bet then, is to ensure all the candidates are aware of how much their kingdoms would lose out on if they attacked us and remind them of our own strength. After all they do not want to take on a battle that they will lose... But..."

"But...?" And here Robin is full on smiling, his eyes never leaving hers.

"It would be even better if we could influence who wins the contest. If we have them in our debt somehow, that nullifies all risk. Depending on how we go about it, we could sow the seeds to make the next khan of Regna Ferox a great ally for Ylisse before they're even in power."

"Throw the Princess a party, she gets it!" Robin cries out with a laugh. "You won't believe how often I've had this conversation with Chrom and he hasn't been able to understand what I meant."

"Really?" Lucina asks, surprised.

"Yeah," Robin chuckles. "He keeps worrying that it'll be interfering in foreign politics and wants nothing to do with it. It's not interfering to keep abreast of developments abroad, and it's good diplomacy to introduce yourselves to all potential future leaders."

"Isn't that why he was so keen for me to regularly visit all these nations in the first place?" Lucina asks, surprised, remembering her father advocating for her first tour abroad just five years ago.

"It is! But in his eyes, that is just maintaining good relations, which is great, but for him to shy away for the Khan candidates is awkward to say the least."

Robin blows a raspberry, startling Lucina as he flops back onto the grass in a mock huff. He reminds her of a much younger Morgan, and she cannot help but laugh.

They talk a while more, of politics, of Chrom, of how nice Sumia's flower gardens are this year and how proud Lucina is of her own small patch in the garden. When they part ways, Lucina heads to dinner feeling suddenly drained and exhausted, she reckons simply that she sat in the sun too long. Her cheeks are flushed, warm. Sunburn, probably. It isn't until she heads to bed, a full hour earlier than usual, that she starts to worry that maybe something else is going on.

* * *

The fever burns, but she ignores it as best she can. She swaps her training regimen in the arena for the coolness of the church hall, favours water over wine and lighter meals, but she still spends as many waking hours as she can working in the library, pouring over letters, looking at options to prevent the more war-hungry contenders for the Feroxi crowns from disturbing the peace.

Lucina is on her way to Olivia's dance room, a written proposition in hand. Lucina's mother will be finishing her weekly class soon, and Lucina really wants her Feroxi-born input on her plan before she shows it to her father. She's already got Robin's approval but considering her plan hinges on her mother's previous influence to pull off, it seems wrong not to ask her first.

Now if only her head could stop spinning. And why does the floor tilt so? She has no memory of this corridor being sloped... The light coming in from the windows flares and dulls dramatically as she steps, stumbles, and catches herself on a windowsill. Maybe Robin had a point about her overdoing things lately... No. She can't think like that. It's just a cold, that's all this is...

"Ah, Lucina? Lucina, Hey!" The words echo as Lucina turns to see who's calling her name. Her hand, slick with sweat, slips. She sees a silhouette, in a long coat, swoop in to catch her before she collapses to the floor. In her feverish state, she recalls a moment, from a recent dream, where injured in combat, she'd been rescued from collapsing by a white-haired tactician. She frowns, looking up at her rescuer's face. Their hair is a dark brown... Morgan. It's Morgan.

"Th-Thank you," Lucina gasps. The floor looms large in her vision as Morgan pushes her back up. Why are her eyes so wide? Why does she look... Scared? Lucina frowns, struggling to keep her eyes from shutting. She feels so light-headed... 

* * *

To the burbling song of a small brook, tall golden grasses sway in a gentle breeze. Boulders form gentle shelters below which flowers bloom. A tree stands tall as the sun sets. The horizon glows gold as the desert sands, as amber wine, as the gold trim on her scabbard.

She has him, her father's would-be-murderer, in front of her. She cannot bear the thought of failing to prevent Chrom's death, not after failing her aunt... She knows full well that this is wrong, can feel the tremors threatening to shake her hold on the hilt of her blade as she draws it. Her words are only coming out clear and steady because she always knew there was a chance that she might need them. They are practiced, the same way her stance is practiced as she points falchion towards his heart.

She had hoped that it would never come to this. Each time Lucina practiced the words and trained her swing in the dim cover of dawn or dusk while pretending her target's face was unknown -might never be known-, she prayed that it would never come to this: to murder.

But it has. She knows this as deeply as she knows that the world that she came from is gone, is dead, and that it will be so all over again if she does not act swiftly and decisively. She cannot blindly trust this man, no matter how hard he has worked to earn her trust, no matter how much...

No matter how much she wishes there were no war, no battle to fight. No matter how much she wishes she were just here to smile and hold his hand. No matter how much she wishes they could just sit among the flowers and enjoy a golden sunset side by side.

She makes the mistake of looking him in the eye.

Lucina remembers the first time that she killed a person, not a Risen or brain-washed cultist... It was on the battlefield, a thief, their blade quick and nimble but their face had been full of terror. Their terror was justified: she'd seen them slash at her friend, draw blood. No one harmed her friends if she could help it. No one hurt those under her protection without facing retribution. She'd been merciful. The death blow was short, quick, efficient. It was much better than the end they'd planned for her ally.

Robin's eyes are steady as he returns her gaze. He doesn't step back when she draws her blade, he makes no move to defend himself, even as he calls for an explanation. It is as though he still tries to see into her soul. It cuts her, deep, that even now... Even when...

How could he? How could he still trust her?! Even when... Even when she...

Her words entreat him not to struggle, but it is her that is struggling. She begs him to surrender himself to her judgment for the love of Chrom, but it is her heart that shatters.

"Very well..." Robin closes his eyes, his lashes gleaming gold as he raises his hands. He smiles, a sad, but tender quirk to his lips. She recognises that smile. "My life is yours... It always has been." 

* * *

When Lucina awakes, she is aware, acutely, of three things.

Firstly, her fever is lifting. There's a cold compress on her forehead. The room isn't spinning anymore, and, for the first time in days, she feels that her thoughts aren't bogged down by pain and exhaustion.

Secondly, her dream: Her dream counterpart had spilled the words with such passion, such pain as she'd dropped her sword in shame, misery, and abject failure. The Lucina who had travelled back to the past, she... She had fallen in love with Robin. And he loved her back. Lucina couldn't quite wrap her head around it. It was hard to process, to understand. It didn't make sense to her. What did, however, cause her to promptly put a hand to her mouth as she felt herself gag, was the deep-set knowledge that her dream world counterpart had been fully prepared to murder in cold blood the person that she loved. Who did that? What kind of monster did that? What kind of monster was she?

"Hey!" Said the third thing. Morgan. Morgan was at her bedside. The infirmary. Morgan must have brought her to the infirmary. "Take it easy! The Tonic's still taking effect, and Maribelle's working at making an antidote as we speak... You need to rest, Lucina!"

"Wha-... Antidote?" Fighting back the nausea is easier as Morgan takes hold of Lucina's hand. She's not wearing her gloves, Lucina notices, feeling the warmth of her friend's fingers in her palm. The worry creasing the girl's brow feels all too familiar. "What... What do you mean..."

"Shh... Don't talk, and I'll explain." She pulls Lucina up into the pillows a bit, reaches for a cup of water. "First drink this. It'll help. I can't believe you let this go unchecked this long... It's a good thing Dad sent me to check on you when he did!"

The explanation comes in a torrent of words. Lucina finds it hard to keep up. She manages to gather that she'd been foolish to brush her fever off as just a cold, a minor ailment that would pass. Morgan is quick to point out the rash at Lucina's throat, under the long collar of her undertunic, and the cold tinge on Lucina's fingertips. Poison, Morgan explains. They're not sure how Lucina was exposed to it, but Morgan's father and Chrom are investigating as they speak. Lucina frowns as Morgan starts theorising, her hands dancing in front of her eyes. She may no longer feel as feverish, but she can feel the fatigue coming on once more.

The warmth of Morgan's hand in hers anchors her. Lucina drifts off into a dreamless sleep.


	18. Pride

_Recap from previous chapters (since it's been a while):_

_Princess Lucina falls ill from a poisoning attempt as she is working with Robin on a plan to secure peace for Ylisse and the continent as a brutal battle for Khanship brews in Ferox. It does not help that in her dreamscape, the Lucina who travelled from the past is now clearly tortured by her feelings for Chrom's tactician._

_Lucina misses the simplicity of having Older Morgan there to guide her._

* * *

Chapter 18: "_Pride"_

* * *

Lucina's father is in the room. She opens her eyes to see his gaze fixed on her face. He runs his fingers through her hair, gives her a small, tender, sad smile.

"Hey sleepy head..." He whispers. She blinks.

"Father?" It's been a few days since Morgan brought her to the infirmary. The antidote is doing its work, and she's regaining her strength daily, but it makes her sleepy. She takes in the golden light drifting through the gaps in the curtains, the dirt on her father's trousers. He must have been working out in the training grounds again. "What time is it?"

"Lunch time," he nods at the tray on the sideboard, "but you don't have to eat straightaway if you're not hungry yet." Chrom has his hand around hers now, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. He's anxious. Lucina frowns.

"Father... What is it?" She pushes herself up, glad to no longer feel lightheaded as she does so, though her arms still feel like lead. "What is troubling you?"

Chrom gives a defeated chuckle and crosses his arms. He turns his gaze to the fluttering curtains.

"It's about your plan you were discussing with Robin." Chrom says.  
Lucina recalls the sheet she'd had in hand as she'd passed out. With all the drama, she'd forgotten about it. There'd only been a passing mention of it when her mother had visited her bedside last.  
"I've decided to authorise an adjusted version of it..."

"Adjusted?" Lucina gulps. She put a lot of effort in that plan. What had needed adjusting? What had she overlooked? A knot of anxiety forms in the back of her throat, effectively shutting down her appetite.

"We can't really send you there unwell," Chrom replies with a quirk of his brow. He chuckles. "Don't worry, Inigo will do fine. He's been taking lessons with Robin too and is really excited to visit Olivia's old haunts."

"Inigo?" Lucina pictures her brother, in his best dancing robes, swanning through the high spheres of Feroxi politics... It kind of works, actually... But... "What if someone attacks him?" She asks, worry raising the tone of her voice more than she'd normally allow. Inigo isn't a fighter.

"Don't worry, I'm sending Laslow and Soleil with him. In fact: they volunteered. Soleil seemed excited to go and stay in her grandmother's country for a time. They leave tomorrow." He takes both her hands in his, smiles. "I thought it best to let you know personally."

Tomorrow? So soon! She'd thought for sure that Chrom wouldn't allow her plan to go ahead before the autumn... What changed.

"Father... Why so soon? Has something happened to Basilio? Flavia...?" Chrom's grip on her fingers tightens near painfully as she asks. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his hold. His expression is grim, matches the one he wears in her dreams.

"No, they are both well, last that we heard." His blue eyes search hers, and she feels small, too young, for the seriousness with which he talks. "Robin and Maribelle figured out how the poison got in your system. Someone's been tampering with the seals on Flavia's letters to you."

Lucina starts. Flavia's letters? The wax seals... Tampered with? Would she not have noticed? Thinking back on it... She recalls, oddly, noticing an almond like smell as she broke the seal once. How...?

"The details aren't your concern just now..." Chrom tempers upon seeing her distraction. "Flavia mentioned to me that one of her seal rings went missing recently. We suspect one of her rivals hired someone to steal it and has someone along the mail's route to tamper with the ones specifically sent... sent to you. We've sent word to Plegia to check that their mail hasn't been... sabotaged." His voice cracks. Lucina isn't sure if she reaches for him first or vice versa. Either way, they hug, her father's arms warm and comforting at her back as he kisses her brow. His voice is teary as he adds, "I'm just glad you're going to be okay, baby girl."

Lucina feels similar tears in her eyes. Thanks to her dreams, she has little trouble imagining the terror that her father must have experienced.

She sniffs, looks past the tray with her lunch on it to the vase full of daisies by the window. Together, they shed tears of relief.

* * *

Laslow drops by with Inigo. His cocky smile matches Inigo's warm grin nearly exactly.

"Keep my brother safe." Lucina scolds him when he jokes about womanising in Feroxi tea houses.

"Don't worry, Princess, I will," Laslow's expression turns serious, a rare event, as he leans in close. His voice is quiet, but simmering with a cold, knife-sharp anger. "And I'll find the coward who conspired to hurt you. I swear."

Laslow's smile returns to his face lightning fast. It looks predatory. It's a stark contrast to Inigo's warm affection as he wishes her to get better soon and promises to write often. Lucina gets the feeling that whoever masterminded her poisoning was soon likely to regret even being born.

"Safe travels!" She calls as they leave the room. Lucina feels sad. She wishes...

She doesn't know what she wishes. She wants someone to talk to, someone who she knows will understand, even when she can't find the words... Severa? Gerome, perhaps? Lucina looks at the vase by the window again. She has a feeling... She knows who those flowers are from, without being told. She knows that if anyone can understand, it would be them...

But no, she thinks, her mind still remembering vividly her dream when she took ill. It wouldn't be appropriate. Instead she steps out of her bed, dons her robe and slippers, and leaves in search of Morgan.

* * *

It's good to speak to Morgan about her worries. Morgan understands the Feroxi and Poisoning situation in ways Lucina can only dream of, the younger girl helping Lucina to wrap her mind around the more emotional aspects of the situation. Morgan helps her cope with the guilt of having allowed herself to be harmed, reminds her that it's okay to not have realised, to feel vulnerable and scared. Morgan distracts her with tales of their friend's latest hijinks, one tale involving a rather enthusiastic Cynthia hosting a tea party in which Gerome got thoroughly soaked and Severa roaring drunk. Morgan says Kjelle is still getting stitches whenever she thinks of it. They play board games in the garden, as Lucina's strength returns in full. They exchange thoughts about books they've both been reading, short anecdotes from their shared dreamworlds and castle gossip. Sometimes Kjelle and Severa join them, or Gerome and Owain. It's nice... but...

Lucina spots Robin striding past the flower beds, waving at Sumia. She doesn't talk to Morgan about how in her dreams, she's developed feelings for her father. She doesn't mention it to Severa, nor Gerome... Although she very much feels the itch to talk to someone about it... She considers asking her mother, but soon rejects the thought... She doesn't want Olivia to get the wrong idea.

How Lucina really feels about Robin? It's complicated. Her tactics lessons with him have been suspended, so their interactions since her awful dream have been limited to his good wishes and polite nods of the head. She's part relieved. She needs the distance right now. It's easy to distinguish the Chrom in her dreams from her father the respected Exalt: the wrinkles on his face, the relaxed set of his shoulders and his now regal taste in clothes all show the difference near two decades have had on him.

Robin on the other hand... The years have been kind to his appearance: he has no more white hairs on his head than he had twenty years prior, the laugh lines on his face are barely any deeper, and he still has that innocent and mischievous spark in his gaze that enchanted every single one of the Shepherds back in the day. The only noticeable difference is that he no longer dresses for war, and he struggles to keep up with Morgan in training sessions. His stamina is much reduced, even though his mastery of the magical arts has come leaps and bounds. That and... Lucina ponders... There are times, she's noticed, where Robin is melancholy. She feels it then, a deep-seated knowledge within him that seems to be older than the hills. It scares her. It scares her that she notices. It scares her because she feels melancholy that she can't name, one that she has felt, on occasion, ever since she was a little girl. A voice in her head whispers how it doesn't make sense for her to understand this man so well. She barely knows him... But another part of her is sure that she does.

"Hey, Lucina!" Severa smirks as she guides her pawn to topple Lucina's queen. There's a knowing quirk to her friend's brow as she leans in across the checkerboard. "It's not like you to leave yourself open like this. Someone on your mind?"

Lucina feels heat flare in her cheeks. Severa laughs at Lucina's rebuttal. She decides it's time to give Severa a challenge: Lucina manages to Check mate Severa within five turns.

* * *

By the time Lucina's back to full strength, Flavia's stepped down from Khanship without incident. Her brother writes her a long letter on the matter. She adds it to the pile where he gushes about Regna Ferox and elaborates more on his dance routines than the actual politics.

She smiles. Soleil is a surprising choice for East-Khan, but one that Lucina knows promises a bright sunny future for the continent of Ylisse.

The west Khan, Basilio comes to visit Lucina in person about a month before. Her poisoner and their employer have been dealt with, Basilio saw to it personally. It reassures Lucina that she needs not worry about opening her mail from Regna Ferox safely any longer. She smiles as he introduces her to the champion he favours as his own replacement: a young man with a serious face, a slight build, and a sharp tongue. She arches her brow at Basilio as they leave, and he shrugs and rolls his eyes. Lucina laughs. It's not the first time he chooses a champion who obviously changed their name. The princess wonders how the new champion would fare against the masked Marth. She finds herself looking forward to the challenge.

Lucina arranges to visit Ferox with her mother for the ceremonial inauguration of Soleil's Khanship. The pink haired mercenary is understandably jittery, but the brightness of her smile is only eclipsed by that of her father, Laslow preening as he sheds proud tears and whispers about how that's his baby girl.

Lucina's heart pangs, as she realises. The Lucina in her dreams is a parent too. It doesn't feel real, but she knows... She knows...

When they return to Ylisstol, Lucina doesn't even shed her travel coat before seeking out her Shepherd's favoured tactician. She finds Morgan in the training grounds, engaging Laurent in a complex scenario of spells and traps.

She watches, patiently. A warm feeling fills her breast as she watches Morgan fool Laurent once, twice, and then a third time, much to the young man's bemusement. Morgan's laugh is cheerful and flows easily as the other mage surrenders, heading indoors to wash up. He'll be back, eager to learn more. Morgan glances to Lucina then. The curious tilt to her head, the question in her eyes prompts Lucina to step forward.

"I know," Lucina says, walking up to within arm's reach of Morgan. Morgan doesn't seem to trust herself to ask for clarification. Lucina chuckles, wetly, feeling tears fill her eyes. She remembers a dream where her other self lets her father finally see the brand in her iris. This feels the same, bittersweet, and miraculous. She forces the words past the lump in her throat. "I know who your mother is."

Understanding dawns.  
And for the first time since the Lucina from the past vanished, you allow yourself to burst into tears and fling yourself into your mother's welcoming arms.


	19. Closure

Chapter 19: Closure

* * *

"Father! We're under attack!"

Lucina feels the heat from origin peak's ongoing eruption flutter across the hillside in waves. It doesn't stop the cold sweat from running down her back as she catches a glimpse of the looks Chrom and Robin are sharing. Her father looks furious, and Robin... The grim set of her partner's jaw terrifies Lucina. But she is used to shoving terror down her own throat, to be dealt with when annihilation doesn't loom. The spirit of Naga similarly urges them to prepare as the Dark Flier and her Grimleal servants descend upon their company... Lucina's blade is at the ready. She's been fighting this war her whole life. Aversa and her mages aren't going to stop them from putting an end to Grima once and for all.

As Chrom leads his troops to route the opposing force, Lucina can't help but notice that something is off with Robin. The Halidom's master tactician isn't smiling – not surprising of itself, not when the stakes are so high, but normally... Normally there's still a spark in his eyes that lets the Shepherds hope...

"Is everything alright?" Lucina asks as she manoeuvres herself into position next to her man. He disposes of a used wind tome, the armoured unit threatening Tiki adequately rebuffed. Lucina allows herself a short moment to be distracted by the glide of a drip of sweat down his temples.

"Ah," he mutters. His grey eyes find hers. He falters. There's something he's not telling her. He snaps to attention, drawing his sword. "Behind you!"

She ducks just in time to counter a Grimleal rogue's attempt at a sneak attack. Her father sweeps by to put an end to the villain's life of murder. Chrom grunts as Robin thanks him.

"You can thank me by finding another way!" Chrom barks as he sprints off to his next fight.

"Robin!" Lucina shouts, grabbing Robin's arm before he can charge off away from her. "What aren't you telling me?"

And she watches as the man she loves freezes to the spot. His face, usually so calm and composed, even in laughter, crumples. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes.  
"I..." He gulps. His sword-hand is shaking in a way that reminds her of the time she raised her blade against him. "I may not be able to keep my promise."

"What do you mean?" She frowns. He'd promised to keep Chrom safe. He'd promised to help them put an end to Grima and save the future. He... "Please, I beg of you, speak clearly my love."

The roar of the battlefield turns into a dull drone as all Lucina's senses focus on him. He takes a deep breath, lifts the palm of his hand to cup her cheek. A lone tear runs down his chin as he kisses her forehead.

"If we want to put an end to Grima for good, I need to be the one to deliver the blow." He says. His voice is steady, the words pragmatic as always, yet Lucina's heart clenches at the display of intimacy on the battlefield. Robin's breath falters as he continues. "I... I may not survive it."

And now she knows the promise he is referring to. The promise to be there for her and Chrom, no matter the path they choose. They'd walk it together. He had promised.

"Robin, wait!" Lucina cries out, desperate to stop him, to save him from such a fate. He's already running off to rescue Frederick from a Grimleal mage. She's fast, she'll be able to catch up. She's stubborn enough to know she can change his mind, let Chrom put the demon to sleep so that both her father and her beloved can live. "I... Robin!"

Only her instinct to run after him is overruled by a different sound. A sharp, short burst. A cry of pain. It's not a cry she's known long, but something about it bypasses all her thought processes. Always does. That cry is the very reason she can never doubt Morgan is her daughter. With tears clouding her vision, Lucina whirls away from Robin, and leaps to the youngest time traveller's aid.

By the time she next has the opportunity to challenge Robin on his suicidal plan, it is already too late.

The final battle against Grima has begun.

* * *

Princess Lucina awakes to find that she is crying. The church is quiet as she stumbles to her feet. The coloured windows are dark, the lanterns dimmed. She had snuck in, tipsy, seeking a peaceful refuge following the rowdy diplomatic function that afternoon. She must have fallen asleep while studying the murals. She wipes furiously at her cheeks. She feels angry, upset, but most of all sad. But these are not her feelings. They're the feelings of dream-Lucina. She focusses on the feel of the pew beneath her hand, the grain of the wood. Deep breathes to calm her racing heart. She stares at the painting near the altar, forces herself to remember its colours despite the dim lighting. Still the dream lingers.

It's never been this overwhelming before. Traumatic? Yes, but usually the feelings would begin to slowly fade within minutes. If anything, the dream's influence is growing, as the follow-up memories begin to plague her mind...

Only this time, it's not just the memory of what followed on that specific day. She blinks. The image of Robin fading away from atop the tumbling form of Grima is replaced by that of Morgan catching her on her black Pegasus. She blinks again. Chrom is passing on Robin's last words, declaring the war at an end. Tears abound. Lucina finds her hands clasped in prayer as she clamps her eyes shut. She sees her father's shepherds packing up, returning to Ylisstol, healing slowly. She sees her dream counterpart and her friends help in the reconstruction of torn up lands, their parents seeing to the people scattered by the fighting. She gasps as dream Lucina weeps, her hand clasped over her midsection as she finds out she is expecting. Lucina forces herself out of the church's nave as more memories assault her consciousness until...

Somehow, she makes it to her chambers. The sounds of the garden party can be heard through her window, but she can't focus. Lucina clutches at the edge of her dressing table. She glances at her mirror. She feels like she's going crazy. Part of her wonders if this is what all her friends felt when their shared dreams came to an early end. Part of her hopes this means she can be free of them now too.

She blinks once more. She sees her younger self. Dream Lucina is in her room, older Morgan cradling the infant Morgan, clearly dozing off. Her dream-self kneels by the child's bed, where a child Princess Lucina sleeps.

"Yours will be a happy future..." A voice whispers. Dream-Lucina's voice. Her voice.

And then the flashes stop. And Lucina is left staring at her reflection in the mirror.

* * *

You're laughing with your Father as he recounts the tale of his favourite prank to a Plegian ambassador. You remember it. It was from during the war, so it's part of your memories from the life that was erased. It doesn't stop you grinning like a fool as he mimes his victim's reaction. You remember your mother's laugh. Wistfully, you glance towards the church yard, where you last saw Princess Lucina wander off to.

It's been nice, having her know who she is to you, to be recognised. The part of yourself that grew up not sure, not knowing, dreaming of a world so far gone that it still hurts to think about, finally feels whole. It's not perfect. There are times where it's hard to reconcile the mother with the friend, or the friend with the memory of a quasi-sister who surely died so that you may live... But this doesn't change things, not really. What matters is that you care, you can value her as she deserves. You see her happy, and that's enough.

Only Princess Lucina doesn't look happy when you spy her running back into the palace, hands clasped tightly to her sides.

You sense your father tensing beside you as you glance his way. He's noticed too. His eyes are wary and sad. You know that he's aware of Lucina's dreams, that he knows she knows they were a thing in her past life. You also know that they have not discussed it. You wonder if they ever will.

"I'll go see to her," you whisper. You clasp your father's shoulder and he nods to you. You hear a whispered thanks as he turns to excuse himself to the diplomat you were talking to. He's away to find Chrom, you know. Chrom is always the one he goes to when he worries about Lucina but feels that it's not his place to approach her. Their friendship is something you admire. You give him and the diplomat a wave as you leave the gardens for the stairs.

You take your time. You remember Lucina, coming to you when your dreams upset you as you camped along the Ylissean borders. You remember her coming to your older part's side in Rosanne. You remember your older-self calming down a panic-stricken Lucina in your father's study as a lilac sunrise filtered in through the curtains.

You're certain that Princess Lucina's upset body-language must be dream related. There's no one in the church this late at night. No one followed her. You remember the dream she told you of this morning. You know that the time is near...

You, of all people, know how overwhelming that last dream can be.

* * *

Dull blue irises shine in the mirror.  
"I look tired," Lucina thinks, taking in the shadows under her eyes. She frowns, taking in the gauntness of her cheeks. She tilts her head. Something's not right. Leaning forward, she squints. There's something off. It's in her eyes. Her brand, it's... It's in the wrong eye? She blinks. The reflection blinks back... Noticeably slower.

Lucina stumbles back. The mirror's gone. She's not in her room anymore. A shiver runs down her spine. The other Lucina is still in front of her, her shoulders slumped, her chin down and her brow twisted as she gives Lucina a sad smile.

How was Lucina fooled? This other Lucina isn't even wearing a dress. She has a turtleneck under a familiar tunic that Lucina has only seen in dreams, the gold trim from collar to hem accentuating just how thin she is. The scabbard on her belt looks heavy, as do the greaves, pauldrons and vambraces. Her whole outfit is battle-weathered, torn, and singed. Her hair, long, unkempt, would have Severa instantly reaching for conditioner. The other Lucina is looking her up and down too, she realises. Self-conscious she reaches for a strand of her own hair. There's a daisy attached with a clip. Her shoulders are bare, the only weight resting on her hips a decorative cord-belt providing some visual interest, highlighting the simplicity of her white frock.

The other Lucina's smile warms, her face brightening.  
"Hey," she says.

"H-Hi," the princess stammers. Her reflection is shorter than her. It's weird. She's dreamed the life her future-past self has lived for as long as she can remember. The battles she's faced, the leadership she's shown, the way she holds herself... If anything, Lucina expected her to be taller.

"I'm proud of you," Lucina-the-warrior relaxes her stance, stepping closer. Her hand reaches for Lucina's cheek. "I've been watching. You're seeing the world. You get to enjoy time with your friends. You're growing up to be every bit the wise and peaceful ruler I could never hope to be."

The gloved hand has callused fingers and a rough texture, but feels warm, comforting. Lucina leans into the touch. Her eyes glance around. They seem to be in an ethereal space, reminiscent of the portal warrior-Lucina travelled through time in. Only instead of being full of the flames of war, this space is peaceful, it looks like white clouds under a spring-blue sky.

"How are you here?" Lucina whispers. She returns her gaze back to her counterpart. The other Lucina looks up to her and chuckles. She doesn't even need to answer, the knowledge is passed on to Lucina as the warrior's fingers slide away from her skin. Naga. A vision as Grima's body falls to the ground. All the future-past children asked the same question...

"A choice..." Lucina mutters aloud, as she processes the information. The warrior nods as Lucina continues, her brows knitting together. "Because with Grima's death, the timelines were converging... A choice to... To..."

"To continue existing separately or disappear and..." The warrior shakes her head at the phrasing she uses. "Get the chance to live the lives we were robbed of."

"Laslow... Selena and Odin... They're... They are..." The warrior nods as Lucina finishes the question. "They chose the former."

"They did."

"Why?" Lucina asks, her hands shaking. It's a lot. It's too much to process. "Why did all the others choose... Choose to vanish? Why did you? Why the dreams?"

Future-past Lucina grasps her hands, pulls her down to sit on the ground with her.  
"We... We never truly vanished." She explains. Her words are gentle. Her tone melancholy. "The dreams, that's our essence from the vanished timeline. My lost world."

"Getting to grow up with you, see the world through your eyes, to be you, is all I dreamed of. But you know that don't you," the warrior's head tilts and her grin is reminiscent of Chrom. "But Naga agreed with me, with the others too: we didn't want our struggle forgotten. Our lives were filled with so much loss, and pain... But there were also great lessons learnt: Lessons I know you've put to good use."

Lucina blushes. Her swordsmanship, her understanding of Feroxi politics, the little tricks, and facts she's picked up from her dreams... They all came in useful, even when she strives not to rely on them.

"I'm sorry," the other Lucina says, stroking Lucina's hair. "I know these dreams have caused you pain. Have made things confusing for you... Especially with... Well..."

Lucina chuckles. Her voice turns wry. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

Future-past Lucina has the decency to look abashed.  
"You'll figure it out," the warrior says. "We'll figure it out."

Their foreheads lean together, laughter shared together till it merges into one soft peal. Lucina opens her eyes, and her reflection is gone. She's sat on the floor of her bedroom, smiling, full of hope. She knows now. She understands. Everything finally makes sense.

Lucina stands as Morgan knocks on the open door.  
"Everything okay, Lucina?"

Lucina tilts her head, smiles. It's both odd and usual to hear Morgan address her like that. It was always Mother in the war. It takes some adjusting to, now that the dreams are just memories intertwined with those of her actual life. Lucina laughs again.  
"Everything is fine Morgan." Lucina leaps up to envelop her daughter in a hug. She last hugged her this morning, but part of her feels like it's been over a dozen years. She steps back, grips Morgan's shoulders and looks her up and down. Mischief makes Lucina quirk the corner of her lips. "You've grown so tall!"

Morgan stares, then cackles.  
"Good to have you back, Mother."

* * *

You sit, the next morning, at one of the many tables set up in the courtyard. Yesterday's function is followed by a very thoughtful outdoor mingling breakfast. The relaxed format is a gift to those more prone to indulging, and you take great delight in watching the various victims of hangovers shuffle out the palace doors towards the buffet table.

You chuckle as you spy Ophelia, freshly returned from a trip to study under Tiki at the Mila tree. She's bright and loud as always, singing the praises of the fine spring morning sunshine as she skips to the table her father and Laslow are sat wallowing at. Seeing Odin recoil in pain is a delightful kind of justice that his wife Selena takes great pleasure in poking fun at. You grin and return to reading your correspondence. The latest news from Rosanne makes for a riveting read as you pick at the fruit on your plate. You're just finishing the letter as you feel a peck on your cheek.

"Good morning, Love," Kjelle grins, putting down a cup of coffee and a plate of cold meats. Your girlfriend points at your empty cup. "Can I get you a refill on that coffee?"

"Please!" You say, returning the affectionate gesture with a squeeze, but before Kjelle has the time to leave the table you both notice her mother entering the courtyard. Kjelle groans.

"Trust mother to get herself in such a state," she mutters, eyeing the great knight from behind her raised hands. You rub her back in comfort. Sully looks like she is still very drunk. "I'd better make sure she doesn't cause a diplomatic incident. Give me a couple minutes."

You nod and lean back. Kjelle looks good as she strides confidently across the courtyard. You look forward to seeing how she'll wrangle her mother away from Virion's table. A flap of blue however draws your eye away. It's Lucina, you realise. She's got that frown on her face that means business. She's headed for the buffet table, but you can't quite see why...

Ah. That explains it. She's making a beeline for your father.

That alone grabs all your attention. You sit straighter, craning your neck, cursing yourself for picking a seat too far away to hear what might be said. Your father hasn't noticed Lucina's approach yet. He has his hands full when he finally lifts his gaze to meet the princess's. He gives that easy smile of his and straightens up from the cheese selection.

You are, it turns out, close enough to hear the slap Lucina gives your father. His plate smashes on the cobbles below. Robin stares bewildered at Lucina, his hand cupping his cheek as she smiles drily up at him. They exchange some words before Robin seems to laugh. Lucina bows her head and strides away with a more relaxed smile on her face. You're as bewildered as the rest of the courtyard's attendees, who, upon noticing Robin arching his brow at them, pretend they weren't craning their necks to make sense of the commotion.

By the time Kjelle returns with your coffee, Lucina's grabbed herself a quick breakfast while your father starts filling a fresh plate anew. You watch the princess march to a table by the grass where Gerome, Noire and the others are sat laughing.

"What the hell happened there?" Kjelle asks, starting on her own breakfast. "What did I miss?"

You shrug. The cup of coffee is very welcome.  
"No clue. Only thing I know is that Lucina reached the end of her memory-dreams last night."

"She did?!" The excitement in Kjelle's voice makes you smile. You remember fondly the morning she came to you, exclaiming about Naga, and deals, and how the dreams finally made sense. You remember being particularly fond of her reaction when you mentioned the possibility of actual dreams being a thing now. Your girlfriend hops up with her plate and cup in hand. "Oh, I've got to go and ask her all about it!"

"Have fun!" You smile as she sprints to Lucina's table. You'd accompany her, but you did promise your father a catch-up first. Thinking of the man...

"Well, if I hadn't woken up yet, that sure will have done it." Robin shakes his head as he sits next to you, his own correspondence tucked under his arm as he places his plate down.

"I've got to ask..." You say, grinning as you steal a cheese slice, "What on earth was that about?"

You father hums awkwardly while waving his knife around, spreading jam on his crackers with a sigh. "The slap? That was for keeping your mother waiting for three years before I returned."

"And the rest?" You feel your heart sink as your recall the time Lucina vanished. Robin had been found literally the next morning. That had been a rough week.

"She... She apologised for vanishing just as I reappeared. But that was your mother, not young Lucina? Ah, all this time travel doppelganger merging stuff is so confusing." Robin groans as he lifts his breakfast to his mouth. He takes a bite, chews, and swallows. "It's hard enough adjusting to you being both Morgans in one!"

"Get used to it, dad!" You chirp.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. Your thoughts wonder.  
"Hey," you say at last. "If you don't mind me asking. What happened in those three years? You never speak of them."

Robin stares ahead for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts.  
"I... There's not much to say really." He takes a sip of his water. "I was in this colourless void, I guess. I could hear everyone's voices calling on me to come back, even Naga, but... There was also me. The other me."

"Grima?" You whisper. Your breath catches in your throat.

"No." Robin looks sad. "The me before Grima travelled to the past. The me who never was amnesiac."

Your interest peaks. You have wondered about your own amnesia when you travelled into the past. The end of your dreams pretty much seemed to associate it with how you were broken free of Grima's control, but you always questioned whether there had been more to it. The strange future-echoes of your time-travelling-self remembering moments from your actual childhood that hadn't happened yet had been especially peculiar.

"I... I don't claim to understand it fully. But..." Robin wrings his fingers together. He's not used to being at a loss for words. "Those three years I was missing...? I was regaining the memories Grima stole from them. It... It was like merging with a fundamentally different person."

You snort. "I know how that feels!"

Robin's eyes find yours, startled wide then appraising.  
"Yes," he says, the discomfort on his features lifting away. He laughs. "Yes, I suppose you do. You all do."

"All but Laurent now." You chuckle. A sip of coffee warms your throat as you lean your elbows on the table. You tilt your head. "Ah, so that's where all your stories about Plegia come from. Older Morgan had wondered where they'd come from suddenly."

"Got it in one. My childhood sucked. Ylisse is much better."

An exchange of smiles. You both nod. Silence resumes as he reads his first letter. You can't help but notice how his gaze flits to Lucina's table every now and then.

"Hey, I know the two of you aren't getting back together," that particular daydream had flown the coop once you'd realised the true nature of the memory-dreams, that older Lucina was never coming back. Your own current romance is also vastly different from what transpired during the war. It's hard to imagine your Kjelle being interested in forge master Owain. "But when you feel ready to _finally_ move on, I'd love a little brother to boss about."

Robin spit-takes his coffee, brown fluids coating his papers. He squawks. "What?!"

"Hey, I miss having a sibling. What can I say?" You laugh as you watch his face turn various very interesting shades of pink and purple.

And you can't help but notice, for the briefest of moments, that Lucina is watching him too.

Well, you think. Fancy that.

"Hey, dad?"

"Hm?"

"That dream journal of mine? Maybe you should let Lucina read it too."

Robin's brow creases, and then he follows your gaze to where Lucina is sat. She smiles.

You smile and finish your coffee.  
What will be, will be.

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

Notes:

_Do Lucina and Robin get back together again? Or do they just decide that that was another life and remain simple friends?_  
_Hell if I know. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

_This story was more about the idea of the time-travellers lives merging with their younger counterparts as the timelines settle into the new future they all fought so hard for! It didn't feel right to have them just vanish without getting a taste of what they always dreamed of. Having Morgan as a perspective character also added an unexpectedly delicious layer of complexity that I could not pass up. Yeay for Morgan!_

_Thank you so much for reading this story. If you have questions, I'm all ears._


End file.
